


Only the Force

by StarWarsSyl



Series: Padawan of Fear Duology [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Attachment does not equal love in this fic, Canon Compliant, Clones & Jedi - Freeform, Gen, Jedi Culture Respected, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9893729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarWarsSyl/pseuds/StarWarsSyl
Summary: A story that's treated like a real novel. My goal is to blend elements of the EU in without ever trampling on the toes of canon.Padawan Harissa Nol's adventures continue in this, the second half of the duology. New friends, new foes, and plenty of experiences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't read “Only Preparation,” you will probably be fine if you just read this story now without going back. It's up to you whether you want to read them in order or not.
> 
> All of the original characters, planets, campaigns, and battles are my own invention. Right now I'm working on a breakdown of what I pulled from canon, EU, and my own brain. Eventually that will be available...

 

 

Death.

Another droid fell, head bisected, spewing sparks with a garbled scream.

Blue fire found a home in the chest of another.

A third struggled to crawl away, dragging its broken legs across the stony ground.

It was swept up with the Force and hurtled backwards to crash into a lightsaber.

The severed pieces landed behind the Jedi and lay still.

The blade retracted, dropping silence over the trees and boulders. Tossing her hair back, away from her eyes, the Jedi activated her comlink. “Keeli. I’ve cleared the overlook.”  
“Copy that. We’re settling in.”

A whisper of movement had Harissa spinning around, ready to spring.

“Commander Nol?”

Harissa relaxed her stance. She stepped towards the small Rodian family. “What are you doing here?” Her mind took in the silver tattoos on their faces. “Tell me you didn't walk all the way from Deltu.”

She could sense their pleasure in the Force that she knew without asking where they called home.

“Meelo wanted to have her picture taken with you,” the mother explained. “We took the journey in short segments.”

Harissa crouched down to be on an eye-level with the little Rodian, who stared at her with wide, star-filled eyes. “Are you Meelo?”  
The girl nodded, apparently struck dumb.

Her mother held up a holorecorder.

Harissa pulled Meelo close and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Smile,” came the prompt.

Harissa gave the little girl an impudent grin, which seemed to break some of the ice. Meelo gave her a shy smile in return, and so it was two smiling faces who looked up at the picture-taker.

“Thank you,” the mother murmured. “We can’t thank you enough.”

“Try to stay safe on your way back home.” Harissa steeled her mind against the knowledge that they’d come for her. “Here. Do you have a map?”  
The father moved the baby he held to one arm to hand her a well-folded flimsiplast sheet.

“The droids are moving this direction,” Harissa pointed out. “Here we’ve cleaned out all their scouts. We haven’t yet over there. My men are moving through this pass.”  
The father’s eyes lit up. “Thank you. Want to meet Little Harissa?”

It didn’t matter that this had happened twice before.

Harissa’s heart still bounded with a strange mixture of awe and pain. The baby looked up at her with wide eyes and reached for the beads in her hair.

“No, no!” the mother chided, worried the child wasn't being respectful enough.

Harissa leaned closer so tiny sucker-tipped fingers could brush against the glass beads in a row on her head, dividing her glossy black hair from her shaved, and now tattooed, scalp. “That’s alright. Isn’t it, Harissa?” She glanced up at the parents. “She’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“It was my idea,” Meelo chimed in, tugging at Harissa’s legging.

“What could I do? When both Meelo and her mother had their minds made up?” the father joked.

Harissa chatted with them a bit longer, asked the parents’ names, tried to impress on them how important it was to keep themselves  _ safe _ and  _ away  _ from the battlefront without hurting their feelings.

She watched them leave, four very happy beings sending little sparks of joy into the Force.

Seven months.

Harissa could barely recognize in herself the scared little girl who’d arrived on New Draxis so long ago.

She’d killed hundreds of droids, the fear of slaughter slowly wearing away.

She’d ambushed, been ambushed, and re-ambushed more times than she could count.

And after stumbling her way through trying to come to terms with the hero-worship the New Draxans aimed her way...

Somehow she’d come to discover that pushing them away only hurt them. So even though she  _ knew  _ she didn’t deserve it, she tried to make them feel special. Instead of suggesting their judgment was impaired for holding her in such high esteem...

She tried to treasure them.

It wasn’t comfortable, to have so much attention aimed her way...

But it was something she could certainly survive. And it was an experience.

She scrambled up over the boulders and back towards their new makeshift camp.

If all had gone according to plan, Admiral Dao should have sent supplies and reinforcements down.

That meant a new batch of shinies to welcome into the fold. The alone, the afraid, the untested—

It was time to make them feel welcomed, valued, and ready.

 

* * *

 

“Master.”

Jedi Master Ima-Gun Di looked up from the topographical map of New Draxis. Indignation filled the dear voice, and more of it swirled around his padawan’s Force-signature.

Fifteen years old, and almost as tall as her Nikto Master, Harissa Nol was lean, long-limbed, and increasingly more comfortable in her own skin.

And also very frustrated, apparently.

“I just checked with Threetu. Command is forcing a  _ replacement  _ for Skid into their squad!”

Ima-Gun folded his arms and studied her, feeling slightly amused. “You do realize that’s what reinforcements  _ do.  _ They fill in for those we’ve lost.”

“You know I have nothing against shinies,” Harissa protested. “But this is  _ Skid’s _ squad. They can’t just replace  _ Skid _ ! It’s not right, Master. They were just finally recovering from Skid’s— from  _ that—  _ and now someone unfamiliar is invading their space and dredging it all up again.”

“How are they taking it?”

Harissa fell quiet and her gaze skittered away. It was an unusual thing to have happen, these days. “Mimic and Blinder seem fairly stoic about the whole thing. Singe told me it’s normal and that they work best as five-men teams, so it’s a good thing.”  
“I see.” Ima-Gun allowed his fondness to whisper in the Force. His padawan may have developed a willingness to argue with authority in the last several months, but she refused to bend truth to suit her arguments. He treasured that about her.

“Threetu’s upset. It simply isn’t  _ right,  _ Master, even if most of them are willing to submit to it. Can’t he go somewhere else? Surely there are other squads that need filling out.”

Ima-Gun arched an eyeridge. “So we should inflict the same pain of torn-open memories on someone else? A squad containing men who are less important, perhaps?”

Harissa’s dark eyes snapped back to his face in shock. “What? That’s not what I meant.”

“Ah. What did you mean?”

Harissa opened her mouth to explain, then paused as she started to consider. Dismay filled her face. “That  _ was  _ what I was saying, wasn’t it?”

“It’s easy to put the people we care about before others. It can be subtle. The mind can justify many injustices because it categorizes people we don’t know as  _ not-quite-people. _ Pain that hits them won’t harm us, because they aren’t part of our special circle... and so somehow, it’s more permissible for them to suffer than it is for someone we love to.”

“But  _ those  _ people have people who love them too.” Harissa nodded. “I’ve been seeing that a lot.”

“And if they  _ don’t,  _ that makes them even more in need of compassion and consideration.”  
For a long moment Harissa stood silent. And then she offered, “Our replacement is probably lonely. He’s not with his squad. Either he somehow lost them... or it was split up to feed other battalions. Either way... to him it feels like we’re being forced on  _ him.  _ To replace  _ his  _ brothers.”

“You’re probably right.”

“I’ll see you later, Master.” She gave him a nod and marched off, compassion swirling around her like a cape.

Ima-Gun smiled to himself as he watched her leave. Head up, shoulders back...

Confident.

No more apologizing for who she was.

Comfortable, with herself and the men around her.

His comlink signaled.

“Yes, Admiral?”

“There ’ s a transmission for you. Master Yoda, General Windu, and the Chancellor.”

What could  _ possibly  _ be so important?

Ima-Gun felt unease, a dread that put him on edge.

Something was wrong.

He accepted the sensation, collected his padawan, and returned to the Recovery’s orbit above New Draxis.

Ima-Gun and Harissa walked into the strategy holotable area to find it closed off from the rest of the bridge and empty except for familiar blue figures.

He felt his padawan’s heart leap into her throat as she caught sight of the Chancellor of the Republic. Her bow was well-formed and not overdone. She kept both her awe and the nervous worry to make a good impression concealed from her face.

At the same time...

She inwardly embraced them as new sensations to be experienced to the full.

He sent her a subtle pulse of approval without once glancing her way, and without losing the calm, waiting expression on his face. “Masters. Chancellor. What can we do for you?”

 

* * *

 

Harissa felt a thrill.

_ He’s proud of me. _

And that sensation of being so happy she thought she might burst was something to be experienced as well. Somehow it managed to mingle  _ with  _ the nervousness she still felt. She enjoyed the one emotion, didn't much care for the other.

Both would pass with time, to be replaced with new ones.

New experiences.

Some pleasant, others not.

The latter not less valid than the former.

_ Our corner of the war isn’t  _ unimportant,  _ but it’s not  _ this  _ important either. _

“We need your skills on Ryloth,” the Chancellor spoke up without preamble. “Cham Syndulla wanted Republic forces off his planet, so once we regained Ryloth, we honored that request. But Syndulla has proven incapable of holding the planet himself.”

“I thought Master Kenobi was sent to investigate the communications blackout,” Ima-Gun asserted.

Windu nodded. “He was, and he did. The Separatists are well on their way to retaking Ryloth. Kenobi cleared space around the planet, but the ground battle will last for some time.”

“We cannot afford to spare Master Kenobi for any length of time,” the Chancellor announced. “Certainly not for the long-term struggle needed.”

“You want us to pull back to Ryloth?” her master’s doubt sung evident in the Force. She had no doubt Yoda and Windu could sense it, but it didn’t show in his face. “My apologies, Chancellor. I’m afraid you may find me more hindrance than asset.”  
“I am aware of the old bickering between Twi'lek and Nikto,” Palpatine dismissed. “I also know that society has progressed much. The people need Republic assistance, and your troops are in the area, and the only ones we can spare at the moment.”

Harissa frowned. “All due respect, Sir, we’re doing  _ good work  _ here. What will become of the New Draxans if we just leave?”  
The man turned wide eyes to her, as though surprised she’d spoken.

As to that...

_ Harissa  _ was surprised she’d spoken.

Must have been spending  _ way  _ too much time with the 337 th boys...

Because here stood the Supreme Chancellor, a man she should, in theory, be concerned about making a good impression to, and yet all she could see was just another politician who didn’t care about the lives of her men, or of the civvies under their care. Giving orders from his safe office after having chatted with Senators about  _ money  _ and a war they knew  _ nothing  _ about, had no  _ qualifications  _ to run—

“I have no doubt you’re doing  _ good work,  _ Padawan—?”

“Nol. My name is Harissa Nol.” She felt a set to her face that she hoped her master wouldn’t read as defiant, but to be honest, part of her was quaking in her boots.

“But I’m afraid there is more to strategy than just taking care of people. We’ll be sorry to lose New Draxis, certainly; but we can better afford to lose it than Ryloth.”

“Those are  _ people  _ you’re talking about!  _ People. _ Not  _ resources. _ ”

“Padawan,” Ima-Gun murmured.

She shot him a heated look, saw the sorrow in his eyes.

She lost her confidence.  _ What? What did I do wrong? I’m sticking  _ up  _ for them the way I thought you  _ wanted  _ us to— _

“Perhaps, Master Di, you could encourage your padawan to be less distracting while we discuss matters of importance?” Palpatine suggested.

Fury punched through Harissa and her eyes narrowed to slits.

She felt the gentle pressure against her mind that was Ima-Gun, urging her to endure. To  _ wait. _

_ For you,  _ she decided.  _ Not for him.  _ Not  _ for him. _

The fact that  _ he  _ was the Commander in Chief of  _ her boys.. _ .

Made her  _ sick. _

Politicians had no  _ right  _ to interfere with the military. They were arrogant, ignorant, self-focused and too distant from the actual issues at hand to make even  _ decent  _ decisions. They should be banned from  _ any  _ decision-making processes—

Yoda was watching her with quiet eyes.

Harissa tried to center herself around them and hold her tongue.

“My padawan may have been less polite than she could have been, but she has a point. New Draxis has endured much at the hands of the droids. I cannot promise that if we leave, they will not suffer more.”

“Many people suffer in this war.” Palpatine shook his head, a self-righteous sorrow on his face. “I’m afraid we will be unable to help them all.”

 _He doesn’t care at all. He’s just a_ _politician._

She understood Mimic’s reception of her, so long ago now, in the mess.

The venom in his voice as he used her to mock the incompetent bureaucrats.

“Be that as it may, I fear that sending us may be more trouble than benefit. It is one thing to say that society has evolved. It’s another to send a Nikto into a troubled Ryloth to take charge of planetary defense.”

Harissa had only vague ideas of what that meant.

“He’s right,” Windu agreed. “The Republic’s relationship with Cham Syndulla is tenuous enough as it is. He doesn’t  _ want  _ us there. He’s only agreeing to work with us because he feels it’s his best chance to free his planet.”

Ima-Gun was visibly taken aback. “You succeeded in recruiting him to  help _ again _ ? Even after the army he demanded gone has returned?”

“Kenobi pulled it off. From what he says, it wasn’t easy.” Windu’s eyes darkened. “And it could break at any time.” The man turned to look at the Chancellor. “Cham isn’t patient, and he certainly has no trouble holding ancient grudges. Master Di would be expected to work alongside him for Ryloth’s defense. If that doesn’t work out, we will lose Ryloth. The forces Di has with him aren’t enough to hold it alone, and if Syndulla starts picking off  _ his  _ men too? He’d be fighting a war on two fronts.”

_ We’re being taken from a planet where the people  _ want _ us to go to a planet of people who  _ don’t  _ want us?  _ Harissa wished she couldn’t believe her ears.

But she’d lived the last several months with men who had absolutely no faith in politicians’ rights to lead a war.

“Master Windu, we've been through all of this before,” Palpatine remonstrated. “We can’t spare anyone else. I have the utmost faith in Jedi reconciliation skills. Surely Master Di can prove he is of a different caliber than the Twi’leks would expect. He won over the New Draxans. Surely he can win over Ryloth’s inhabitants. What say you, Master Yoda?”

The ancient master’s ears drooped. “Overcome in a night, millennia of injustices cannot be. Danger, I sense. Grave danger.”

“I agree.” Windu crossed his arms over his chest. “I think this is very unwise.”

“If Syndulla already resents the Jedi and Republic, perhaps the best use of time and resources would be to send a Twi’lek master. Perhaps we could avoid him seeing the Republic as allied with the oppression they struggle against.”

“I think not. Extremists are unreasonable by nature.” Palpatine’s voice was so sympathetic as he completely discounted their concerns. “Even if we  _ did  _ send one of his own people, he would likely see them as traitors to the Twi’lek way of life because they are Jedi, not living their lives out in Ryloth’s dust. I’m very sorry to disappoint you all, but I’m afraid this is the way it must be. I expect you to report to Ryloth as quickly as possible, so Master Kenobi can leave.”

“May I at least request reinforcements—”

“I'm sure you’ll think of something clever on your own. I never cease to be amazed by the ingenuity of a Jedi under pressure. When they think they can’t, they pull a victory from thin air and determination. We’re counting on you, Master Di. I’m sure you’ll make us all proud.”

And with that, the Chancellor’s hologram disappeared.

Windu and Yoda exchanged disbelieving glances. Ima-Gun lowered his head and simply breathed.

Harissa glared at the now-absent ruler of the Republic and seethed.  _ How is he in charge? How in  _ blazes  _ is that a good idea? _

“Well, then.” Windu huffed a growled sigh. “Kenobi will wait for your arrival and try to ease the transition over. If anybody can convince Syndulla to work with you, it’s  _ him. _ He can talk his way out of just about anything.”

“Years of oppression require more than talk to resolve, Master Windu.” Ima-Gun raised his head again. “I appreciate his willingness to help. What can you tell me of Syndulla?”

“He puts his people before anything and everything else. He cares nothing for the Republic, or other planetary systems. As long as Ryloth is free, the universe can burn.”

_ And we have to help  _ him _?  _ Harissa somehow restrained the groan of frustration that was desperately clamoring for release.

“He has heard too many promises, and not enough action from Senator Taa and the official Ryloth leadership. He feels he’s waited long enough. He’s impatient, quick-tempered, and outspoken. He would prefer unashamed criticism to attempts to befriend. My advice? Brutal honesty. If you try to craft your words to  _ not  _ injure his pride, he will take it as a sign of weakness.”

“How is he responding to Kenobi?”

“I tried to keep them away from one another as much as possible. But Kenobi adapts. Syndulla’s pride is likely to be your greatest enemy.”

_ How can we be brutally honest and still avoid the trap of his pride?  _ Harissa scowled. She bowed along with her master as the call came to a close, and she kept her mouth shut until the last hint of blue hologram disappeared.

And then she couldn’t anymore.

“Did you  _ hear  _ Palpatine? What kind of insane drivel  _ was _ that, at the end, about impossible odds and Jedi pulling miracles out of thin air? That’s not war, it’s not even  _ faith— _ it’s—  _ abuse.  _ It’s sending us out there to  _ die _ . It’s refusing to give us the resources we need to survive, then telling us we have to win anyway.”

Ima-Gun sighed. “I don’t like it either, Harissa.”

She caught a hint of dread from him, and it stunned her.

_ He doesn’t think we can pull this off _ , she realized. “So that’s it, then? We go rogue? Refuse to comply and stay here?”  
He turned to her with surprise in his face. “And this plan of yours, where do you see it ending?”

“With the New Draxans protected like they  _ should  _ be, our men protected like  _ they  _ should be, and Palpatine forced to find someone who will  _ fit  _ with the Twi’lek fighters instead of creating a whole new set of problems!”

“And when they take the command away from us?”

Harissa shrugged. “Do you think any of these boys would leave us because some politician told them to?”

“And when another battalion is sent to bring us into line? To bring us in or take us down?”

Harissa hesitated. The thought of brother fighting brother...

“They don’t have time to punish us. They have too many  _ more  _ important things to—”

Ima-Gun shook his head. “This is a military, Harissa. They always  _ make  _ the time for discipline. If they didn’t, other clone detachments would turn their backs on orders handed down in favor of their Jedi, and soon the politicians lose all control and the army becomes  _ ours,  _ not  _ theirs _ .”

“I’m not see the problem with that,” Harissa admitted. “They are incompetent and don’t care about the lives or basic  _ rights  _ of these men. That means they have no right to give them orders. They aren’t out here, leading the charge, wading into the blasterfire. They’re safe at home. They aren’t  _ qualified. _ ”

“We have our orders, Harissa.”

“But think of how many men will  _ die  _ if we  _ follow  _ them!”

He watched her, sorrow in his eyes. “And think of how many of their brothers  _ our  _ men would have to kill to take this path. Think of what that would do to them.”

“I can’t believe this. You’re  _ settling _ !” Harissa glared at him. “You’re  _ compromising.  _ What was it you told me? How following our consciences was what had to come  _ first _ ? I can’t believe you’re just  _ allowing  _ this!”

She wanted him to scowl. She wanted him to yell at her. To  _ fight  _ her over it.

Instead, he watched her with sorrowful eyes.

Those eyes were going to kill her.

She beat a hasty retreat, torn between wanting to insult him to the point of anger and a terrible urge to cry because he looked so hurt.

_ It’s  _ wrong _ ,  _ she groaned within.  _ It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. _

But it didn’t matter how strongly she believed it.

_ He’s going to take us away from here. _

She thought of three infants of varying species that carried her name.

The name of the person who abandoned them.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Harissa stood on the bridge, trying to keep New Draxis in view for as long as possible.

But the cruiser turned away from the planet and the maze around it, and all Harissa could see were stars.

Stars that had been twisted and torn and stretched to the breaking point, that pulsed with blue and white light.

_ Should I have said goodbye?  _ she wondered for the fiftieth time.

She’d had the night to prepare for their departure. Surely she could have made contact with the closest village.

But what would she have said?

_ We’re abandoning you... so we can go take care of some pampered politician’s homeworld... whose people don’t even want us. _

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to attempt it last night...

_ And now there is no longer the option. _

She wondered if her master had made any effort to communicate.

Knowing him, he probably had...

But there was no way she was going to  _ ask. _

She felt both ashamed of her outburst and frustrated that he gave the order to move out.

 

* * *

 

Keeli kept an eye on his commander.

She hadn’t said anything to the men, but he could tell she was deeply unhappy about the current situation.

Kessel, most of his brothers were too.

_ But orders are orders. _

He didn’t like the schism between his commanding officers. Ima-Gun had retired to his private quarters, and Harissa prowled the command decks.

They were about to head into a situation where their allies didn’t want them.

_ We can’t afford division in our own ranks. _

 

* * *

 

Ima-Gun sank to his bunk, his body utterly exhausted.

For seven months straight he had felt drained.

As if he couldn’t quite get enough oxygen... or sleep...

It had been a slow, creeping problem that had been easy to brush aside as the effects of growing older... or the stresses of taking on his first padawan... the fact their sleep was often broken in order to fight desperate battles.

_ But although it was difficult... it wasn’t like that before. _

Looking back gave a startling picture, one he hadn’t seen while standing in the middle of it.

He knew exactly when it had started.

_ Harissa. _

He thought of her desperate begging, so long ago now. How convinced she was that her masters died  _ because  _ of her.

That they made mistakes.

The grim thing of it was...

Ima-Gun could easily see himself making a mistake while his body was so badgered. Maybe... even so obvious a mistake that it might be fatal.

It could still be aging, a teenager, a war...

_ But what if it’s something more? _

 

* * *

 

Jedi Knight Aiden Drossmark flexed his fingers, eyeing the other stack of reports he still needed to fill out.

One down, seven to go.

He had been busy  _ before  _ the war.

Now, Healers who specialized in the mind were a precious commodity.

When a chime went off, he gladly accepted the distraction,  _ any  _ distraction,  _ please. _

It turned out better than he’d anticipated.

“Gun!”

“Dross.” The large Nikto’s eyes crinkled and his mouth opened a little in as close to a smile as he could manage, given his facial structure. “It’s good to see you.”

“You have no idea what you’re saving me from,” Aiden countered. “Is everything alright? I heard you took a padawan?”

Ima-Gun chuffed a laugh. “Let me guess. Upesh told you.”

“You should have seen his glee. Something to behold.” Aiden grinned. “But it was Dalina who found out first and told him. I swear, he’s turning her into a mini Upesh. For the life of me I can’t figure out why she would have been going through  _ those  _ files, unless it was to gather new ammunition. But how Upesh is corrupting  _ his  _ padawan is really beside the point. You caved. What about us growing old together? Jedi spinsters, alone in the universe?  _ No padawans _ ?”

Ima-Gun held up his hands in helpless surrender. “I know, I know. You’ll understand once you meet her.”

“No. I really won’t,” Aiden assured him. “And Upesh isn’t the only one who thinks the whole thing hilarious.”

“Clearly you do as well.”

Aiden sent him a mock scowl. “No, I’m hurt. Very, very hurt, my friend.”

That drew laughter from both of them.

“How is Master Venley?” Ima-Gun asked.

“Puttering around. She’d be raising younglings  _ still,  _ if they would let her. As it is, she bosses younger Clan Mothers around. They seem to appreciate it. At least... none of them have come to see me about it yet.”

Ima-Gun’s eyes twinkled. “Tough old girl.”

“No doubts there. And for the record, when  _ she  _ heard you’d taken a padawan, she said she’d always known it was inevitable.”

“Is that  _ all  _ she said?” Ima-Gun teased.

Aiden inspected his fingernails. “She...  _ may  _ have said something about how I’d better be careful, or it would be  _ me  _ next. But I assure you,  _ that  _ is a danger I  _ won’t  _ be succumbing to, my Settled-Down Friend.  _ I  _ will remain free, and end my lineage with myself, thank you very much.”

He felt the shiver of something wrong.

In an instant, joviality fled from his system and he raised keen brown eyes to his clan mate’s face. “You didn’t call to reminisce.”

“You’re right. I need help. I thought you might be able to gain access with your clearance where Upesh couldn’t.”

Concern shivered through Aiden’s soul. “Is your arm acting up again?”

“No, no. It’s stable. My clone medic doesn’t like it, but that can’t be helped. It’s my padawan. Harissa Nol. She came to me with a story. She has lost a lot of authority figures in the past. Her first three masters, her Finder, and her Clan Mother.”

Aiden winced, thinking of sharp-tongued Venley. “Ouch.”

“I had a cursory glance into it, and the deaths were all unrelated. She needed a master, there was no one to take her, and she’d lost all belief in herself, Dross. You should have seen her. I’ve never met a padawan so beaten down.”

“If your troops are anything to gauge by, I imagine she’s doing a lot better now.” Aiden sent him a small smile. “I still think you could have been a Mind Healer if you’d just had the interest.”

Ima-Gun didn’t respond to the bait.

That worried Aiden almost as much as the grim exhaustion in his friend’s eyes.

“At the time, she believed herself to be under a curse of some sort, that attacked those who took responsibility for her.”

Aiden’s eyebrows shot upwards.

“I know, I know,” Ima-Gun interrupted, hastily. “You still think there’s an explanation for everything.”

Aiden waited in silence, only allowing himself a meaningful  _ look. _

“That’s another reason I wanted you to be the one to look into this. You’ll be incapable of letting it go.”

Aiden snorted a laugh. “Not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll see what I can do. What is it I’m doing?”

“She described her masters as making mistakes they shouldn’t have made. Routine things. Things they’d done a million times. Things that turned fatal.” Ima-Gun ran a heavily-clawed hand down his face. “I didn’t think much of it... but I’m losing my edge, Dross. I can’t seem to shake the weariness, and it feels like I’m walking around in a fog. I’ve tried to ignore it or work through it for months, but it just keeps getting worse.”

“That’s what you need my clearance for. To try to discover if any of the others felt something similar.”

Ima-Gun sent him a nod. “Are you willing?”

“Definitely. But Gun, if you need a break, request one. I’ll throw in my weight. We’ll get you a week off, or something. Tired people make mistakes, and you have a padawan now. You can’t afford to make mistakes.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you.”

“That you have a  _ padawan _ ? Of course not. But I’m serious. Listen to me, Gun. I know there’s an overwhelming amount of work to be done, and people to save, but if you don’t take care of yourself, you’re going to be unable to help  _ anybody. _ ”

Ima-Gun gave another nod. “As soon as we can find a substitute to take care of Ryloth for a while. I’m not going to leave my men to try to to work with the locals alone— that would be  _ asking  _ for disaster— and Harissa isn’t ready to choose peace over conflict in this situation, so I can’t leave her in charge. She has a bone to pick with both the Ryloth leadership  _ and  _ Republic leadership.”

“She’s going to have to get in line,” Aiden grumbled. “We don’t belong in this war, Gun. And I’m in a really,  _ really  _ good position to see just how acidic it is for all of your minds. I’m even seeing Healers who have... completely lost it. They tried to heal too many people along the battle lines, and it burned out their minds. Gun, promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise.”

Aiden nodded, knowing he would have to be satisfied with that. “I’ll look in to your padawan problem.”

“My padawan is  _ not  _ the problem,” Ima-Gun grumbled. “She is wonderful, and she will win you over when given the opportunity.”

“Sure, sure,” Aiden offered in a tone that clearly meant the opposite. “I’m sure she’s quite the little charmer. Now, unfortunately, I have an appointment that I cannot just drop. Or I would. Simply for the pleasure of watching you squirm. Mister I-broke-our-childhood-pact.”

“Thank the Force you have an appointment,” Ima-Gun sent back, a hint of sparkle returning to his eyes.

There. That was better.

Aiden watched the holo wink out and snatched up his datapad.

The next hour was claimed, but  _ after  _ that...

He smirked at the waiting reports.

He had a  _ pressing distraction  _ to attend to.

 

* * *

 

“You have got to be kidding. You send a Nikto and  _ another  _ human?”

Obi-Wan Kenobi spread his hands, not taking offense. “I like to think we worked well together. Human and Twi’lek.”

“Humans have bought my people for  _ pleasure  _ and  _ labor  _ for too many  _ thousands  _ of years to overlook,” Cham growled. “But it was something we could endure for the sake of our home. But  _ that— _ ” he pointed at Ima-Gun— “is not acceptable. His very  _ presence  _ is an insult. Do you have any  _ idea  _ how his species has oppressed us?  _ Still  _ oppresses us? There are Twi’leks in chains  _ today  _ at the hands of  _ his people _ !”

Keeli balled his fingers into a fist by his side.

He understood why Ima-Gun had felt the need to leave Harissa behind with the men during this first introduction. Given the rumors floating around of raised voices behind closed doors...

_ She might have just decided to tell him a thing or two. _

The fact that Ima-Gun had chosen to allow Keeli to accompany him meant his general felt that Keeli had the self-control to  _ not  _ do the same thing.

So he grit his teeth, kept his helmet securely over his head to hide his glowers, and held still.

“The Twi’leks have very real grievances against both Niktos and Hutts,” General Kenobi agreed. “But I would like to point out that this particular  _ man  _ has never taken part in any of those crimes.”  
“He hasn’t  _ stopped  _ them, either,” was Cham’s snide reply.

_ As though any one man could stop the Twi’lek slave trade single-handed,  _ Keeli thought indignantly.  _ Especially in a war! _

“You are right. Perhaps there is more I could have done,” Ima-Gun said, his voice quiet. “I would appreciate being allowed to begin that here and now by protecting your people from the droids.”

Cham narrowed his eyes at him, looking him up and down as if  _ he  _ were a slave to be evaluated.

_If you don’t want to be treated like that, you shouldn’t do it to_ _others._

“This is just another example of what I was saying earlier,” Cham said, turning his back on Ima-Gun so he could command Kenobi’s full attention. “Another example of Jedi arrogance. Your precious Order sent  _ him. _ ”

“I have to leave,” Kenobi responded, his legendary patience cracking, just a bit. Keeli’s eyes widened as he saw it. “You need help  _ now,  _ to defend your people. Not a few months from now. If you want your people  _ alone  _ for that length of time,  _ fine.  _ I’m sure I could free up some Twi’lek Jedi to come to your assistance. But if you want to help  _ your  _ people  _ now _ , then might I suggest you find some way to work with Master Di?”

Cham matched his stare for a long moment. “That name is  _ hated  _ among our people. He is not the only one to bear it.”

“Do you hold yourself guilty of everything a Syndulla has ever done?” Obi-Wan asked, his calm present once more.

The Twi’lek glowered for a long moment, then turned to storm back into his camp. “Come,” he ordered Ima-Gun, followed by something in his native tongue that made Ima-Gun flinch and Kenobi scowl.

“I am sorry,” Kenobi murmured, turning to Ima-Gun. “I hate to leave you here.”  
Ima-Gun sent him a weary smile. “We do what we can. Leave without guilt, Master Kenobi. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you.” Kenobi glanced after Cham Syndulla. “You’re going to need it.”

 

* * *

 

Clones milled about, a humongous tangle of white armor marked by orange-yellow or brown.

But the color stripes weren’t the only way of keeping track of 212 th and 337 th .

The men with the dyed and crazy hair were  _ her  _ boys. And while many men in the 212 th had tattoos, the 337 th boys were  _ covered  _ in them.

The contrast was something to behold. Harissa watched as brother interacted with brother, transferring news, gossip, rumors, advice—

She caught sight of a deathhawk and realized that in Sketch’s haste to put it up, part of the backcombing had been incomplete. Instead of standing up, one particular lock flopped over. Probably not low enough for him to feel that it was out of place.

_ Not good. _

“Sketch!” She pushed her way through the throng, trying to catch his attention. “Sketch!”

A clone stepped into her path and saluted. “Sir.”

“What?” Harissa moved to go around him. “ _ Sketch _ !”

“ _ Sir.  _ I  _ am  _ Sketch. Sir!” the clone barked back.

Harissa paused and stared at him. A yellow stripe down his shoulder proclaimed him a member of the 212 th . He had a tiny  _ senth  _ tattooed above one eye.

And then a presence that could take up a room was there too, at her elbow. “You called, Commander?” he asked, looking at the  _ other  _ Sketch the whole while.

Given the challenging postures the two of them held, Harissa made a split-second decision. Better not to humiliate the one in front of the other. “It can wait.”

The 212 th Sketch eyed his brother distrustfully. Professional, and reserved.

Harissa’s Sketch stared right back, defiant and silently loud in every way.

All around and behind her, Harissa could hear conversations.

Her boys talking about their dreams for the future, and loud protests against politicians.

The men of the 212 th just a bit overwhelmed and shocked.

“Why do you look like all the others?” Harissa’s Sketch asked.

The other man scowled. “I  _ don’t. See _ ?” he pointed to his eye.

His 337 th counterpart arched one intentionally-shaped eyebrow. “Yeah. I saw that. Why do you look like all the others?”

Harissa opened her mouth to try to diffuse the situation, when a well-known call whipped her head around.

“Mom?”

“What is it, Threetu?”

“ _ Mom _ ?” the other Sketch yelped.

Her Sketch stepped just a little closer. “What? Not  _ regulation  _ enough for you?”

Threetu was at her side. “Do you know where the general is? I’ve got a little girl trying to find her Dad and he’s got to be with the general.”

“Hey,” Harissa said, smiling down at the small green child. “I’m Harissa. What’s your name?”

“Hera.”

“Last I saw they were headed into Syndulla’s base,” Harissa told Threetu.

He gave her a nod. “Thanks.” His gaze skittered to the second Sketch as he added, “ _ Mom _ .”

“She’s your  _ commanding officer _ ,” that Sketch growled.

Her Sketch shrugged, a gesture somehow made seriously aggressive. “Maybe she’s better than  _ your  _ Jedi, since she doesn’t mind our claiming her.”

Other 212 th men turned, eyes suddenly cold.

“ _ What  _ did you just say?”

“Yeah. That our Jedi are better than yours. You’ve only got one, anyway.”

Harissa’s Sketch ended up with a fist in his nose.

“Hey!” Harissa snapped.

Her Sketch got in a couple good hits before she managed to wrench them apart. “ _ Break it up _ !” she thundered.

The 212 th man glowered at her, squinting through what was going to turn into a black eye. “Apologies. Sir.”

Harissa turned to her Sketch, giving him an expectant look.

He shrugged. “Not sorry.” He swiped the blood dripping from his nose with the back of his hand.

Harissa sighed. “ _ Why  _ did you immediately dislike each other?”

“ _ I’m  _ an individual. I  _ earned  _ my name. He comes along and tries to take  _ my  _ name and make it...”

“Something that isn’t just yours?” Harissa guessed when he didn’t finish.

His expression tightened, and he glared at the other Sketch...

But he gave her a tiny nod.

“ _ Excuse me  _ for not knowing you even  _ existed _ ,” the other man growled. “Thank the  _ stars  _ we’ll never be mistaken for one another.”

“Why? Because you’d hate to be associated with someone so counter-regulation? Never be able to live down the shame?” another yellow-marked clone growled. He had a web of scarring across his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” his brother growled without looking at him.

A flash of hurt flitted through the scarred man’s face. “I heard a member of my squad was getting into a fight. I came to  _ help. _ Because to  _ me,  _ a squad  _ means  _ something.”

The second Sketch took a step closer to Harissa. “Mark my words.  _ This— _ ” he waved in the general direction of her Sketch and Threetu, who hadn’t quite managed to walk away— “never ends  _ well _ .”

Fury flooded his squad member’s face. He raised eyes that weren’t quite the same shade of rich brown as the other’s to Harissa’s own. “I think I want to transfer.” He turned on his brother, gaze hardening into something acid. “I get the impression  _ these  _ boys wouldn’t accuse me of being a  _ traitor  _ because I’m  _ different. _ ”

“What you were doing was  _ twisted _ !  _ Sick _ !”

Harissa’s Sketch looked slightly mollified. “What was it?”

“Droid fingers. He collected  _ droid fingers _ !”

_ So much for Master Kenobi’s prim battalion. _

It made her wonder if, given a little nudging, more of the clones would behave more like  _ her  _ boys than not...

“They called you a  _ traitor  _ for  _ that _ ?” her Sketch demanded.

Hunger flitted into the angry Force signature.

_ He wants to feel accepted. _

The other Sketch scowled. “I never  _ did— _ ”

“He said there was something  _ deficient  _ about me, and you just  _ stood  _ there.  _ All  _ of you just  _ stood  _ there! You thought me  _ capable  _ of  _ betraying  _ all of you!”

The clones around them had fallen very, very silent.

“We never  _ said  _ we thought you were—”

“ _ I _ _ ’m _ not the one who took money from Ventress! I’m not the one who got brothers killed! I’m not the one who nearly lost us the planet! No, that was your  _ regulation-following  _ Slick. But you still treat me like a traitor in waiting!”

Threetu moved close and leaned into Harissa’s ear to whisper, “Can we keep him?”  
_ I’m not sure it works that way. _

But she wanted the same thing.

“Trooper,” she said, interrupting his brother’s attempt to say something. “What is your name and number?”

 

* * *

 

“Syndulla doesn’t seem too enthusiastic about accepting our help,” Keeli observed. He and Cody stood far enough away to give their generals some space, but still allowing the clones to keep an eye on them.

Cody gave him a terse nod. “Can’t say I’m sorry to leave this planet. There’s been some disdain towards the men, but no real belligerence.”

“Good to know, but I wish I had more. Would you be willing to leave one of your men behind, to help us out?”

_ You _ _ ’re going to owe me one, Commander. _

Cody considered. “I suppose that might work. He could fight with your men until he has a chance to rejoin us. I don’t think General Kenobi would object.”

“I appreciate it. Your boy Chopper, perhaps?”

Cody ’s eyes narrowed.

Keeli held his gaze without giving away his hand.  _ Yeah. You’re definitely going to owe me, Nol. _

“Chopper has some... issues. He may not be your best bet.”

“What kind of issues?”

Cody hesitated. “A bit of an authority problem. And an anger problem. And... for a while he was stealing battle droid body parts from their corpses.”

Keeli waited, but it appeared that Cody was finished. “And?”

“You want  _ more _ ?”

“Is he receiving psychological treatment of any kind?” Keeli asked, hoping he’d recovered fast enough for Cody to have missed his momentary bafflement.

Cody shook his head. “He’s refusing help.”

_ I’ll bet. _

If half of what Harissa had relayed was true, he could see why Chopper could find difficulty in submitting himself to men who looked at him as a... monster, of some kind.

But there was a bright side to the whole thing. If he stole Chopper away from the 212 th , at least he wouldn’t be inflicting a negative impact on the wounded brother’s mind.

“It ’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

To his surprise, Keeli found it to be perfectly true.

Ima-Gun had encouraged them to think, then communicate...

And then he  _ listened _ ...

He had treated the worst cases as reasonable creatures, and won the hearts of men who hated authority figures with a passion.

Not a man in the 337th _wouldn’t_ walk through the fire with Ima-Gun Di.

_ And he took in Commander Nol. _

After that...

_ We’re more likely to be able to help Chopper than the Two-Twelfth, I think. _

And if it turned out to  _ not  _ be the case...

They could always send him back.

 

* * *

 

Ima-Gun watched the heavy troop ship lift from the ground, the 212 th gone except for one clone in yellow and white.

He was... _aware..._ of the fact that his boys had been confused by how... _plain_... their brothers seemed to be. Surprised they weren ’t as colorful... even a bit disbelieving.

And that the 212 th men had grown huffy in return.

That had just ticked off the 337 th ... and then came showing off and an attempt to shock and annoy.

In all honesty, Ima-Gun was surprised there had only been  _ one  _ fight.

But Harissa had been there, so the situation hadn ’t gotten out of control.

He sighed.

Harissa.

He didn’t know how to bridge the gap that had come between them. All he knew was what he had lived through as a padawan, and Dross...

_ Neither of us responded well to an attempt to force reconciliation. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. _

It’s not like he could apologize for doing what he felt needed to be done. And to say he was sorry that she didn’t like it...

That would be throwing fuel on a fire. Those weren’t words aimed to bring peace.

Still.

He was sorry she hadn’t felt she could come to him with her desire to help the 212th clone. Keeli could phrase it as the boys’ plan, but...

_ The way they went about it has my padawan’s fingerprints all over it. _

Perhaps he could tell her he’d noticed and approved of her compassion and initiative.

Maybe that could form a bridge.

And then the droids fell upon them and he had very little time to consider it further.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Aiden settled in for a long afternoon of research, both patients and reports dispensed with for now.

More could arrive at any moment.

_ Live in the present, eh? _

He was sick of going through things from first to last. It was all he ever did these days.

So he took Harissa’s final master and decided to work his way backwards through the timeline.

“Malli Kehayu, rank of Master, middle-aged human female, born with Zema Syndrome—”

That wasn’t one he was familiar with, so he followed the disease down a side trail.

The medical jargon was understandable, but far too in-depth for his tastes, so he just skim-read for the main points.

_ Bone degeneration... hereditary... still several years of research away from a viable cure... but manageable through extensive medication. _

He went back to Malli’s records.

_ In fact... since they were warned by her parents... looks like Malli never suffered any ill-effects. At death, bone integrity was uncompromised. _

_ So how  _ did  _ she die? _

The answer left him frowning.

“She mixed them  _ up _ ?”

A padawan with datapads spread all around her glanced up, startled from her studying.

He winced in silent apology, thankful Madame Nu wasn’t close enough to have heard him.

_ Sure, maybe that would be a simple mistake for one of  _ us  _ to make, but she’d been managing her disease with those meds  _ all  _ her life. That’s one hell of a mistake. _

No one seemed to have any insight on  _ why  _ Malli slipped up this once. The mission hadn’t been particularly stressful, she had reported no problems with her padawan, and Harissa herself had been unable to shed light on the subject.

Harissa had also been the one to find her.

Peacefully asleep.

Then not.

According to the Healers, it would have been without warning and painless.

_ For Malli, perhaps. _

_ Alright. That was... a year and a half before Gun lost his mind. So the question is, why did Malli have Harissa in the first place? _

He dug a bit deeper, found a new set of reports.

_ Malli’s former padawan was Harissa’s master. He died, she agreed to complete Padawawn Nol’s training... she says that Harissa was trying to open up, trying to cope... _

He checked the dates.

_ And she only had her for a month and a little. _

That explained the current records on Harissa’s mental health.

_ To open up, then get slammed to the mat again? _

Now he wished he’d pressed Ima-Gun more closely on his current evaluation of her emotional status.

_ Next conversation, that’s happening. _

Alright.

Next.

_ Yema Ugani... knight. Twenty-four standard years old, human male, former padawan of Master Kehayu. _

Sad.

With them, a very long, very old Lineage had come to an end.

_ Though, I suppose, since Harissa was apprenticed to both of them, she could claim that Legacy and carry it on. _

And a couple others besides. Her first master’s, and now Ima-Gun’s.

He checked dates.

_ Damn. He’d only been a knight for five weeks when he took her. _

Aiden allowed himself a moment of relief that he hadn’t felt the need to jump straight into child-raising.  _ No. I’m going to _ enjoy  _ my adulthood, thank you very much. _

He stumbled across an image.

Yema and his padawan.

He’d been intentionally trying to avoid pictures of Harissa, but—

Now he was stuck.

And...

She didn’t look evil, the little vixen who had stolen his friend and shattered the childhood dream.

Almost twelve years old, Harissa looked tiny beside her master’s tall form. Natural curls framed her face, and there was a shadow in her eyes that canceled out the little smile she’d attempted with her lips.

_ Already so weighed down, and you still had two more to lose. _

Aiden’s chest tightened.

“No, you don’t,” he muttered, causing the padawan sitting across from him to glance up again.

He ignored her this time.

_ I will  _ not  _ fall for Nol the way Gun did. Nope. Not happening. _

He sent the image away and dug out something  _ far  _ safer. Reports, both autopsy and mission.

_ Gangster trouble... lah lah lah... three. Wait. There were  _ three _? _

Aiden frowned.

If Yema had gained his knighthood, and the record clearly showed he  _ had _ ...

Then three low-level gunslingers shouldn’t have been a problem.

Not in a thousand years.

_ Especially  _ with a padawan he’d been working with for eight-plus months.

_ There shouldn’t even have been a question as to how that fight would turn out. _

But there it was.

According to Harissa, he sensed something coming, looked up, moved—

Straight into the bolt’s trajectory.

Aiden scratched at his head.  _ Bizarre. Alright. First one. _

Lela Astar.

Knight.

Twenty-seven year old Rodian female.

Her first padawan.

Her padawan’s first master.

Again, an image.

This one was an even nastier kick in the gut.

Lela practically glowing with pride and happiness, Harissa beaming like she’d been given the world. Mid-laugh, they looked young and full of life.

_I’m not old. Don’t think like that._

They had a month of happiness together.

He almost didn’t want to know.

_ But Gun needs to. _

So he continued.

_ Peace negotiations dragging on for days... the padawan bored, making faces, disrupting proceedings— _

Aiden snickered. Force. Didn’t  _ that  _ sound like a chapter out of his own life?

He sensed more than saw the padawan’s discomfort as he disrupted her focus yet again.

_ Sorry. Sorry. I’ll be quiet now. Promise. _

And then promptly forgot all about her.

_ Left in the guest rooms so they could proceed without starting a war... _

His gut plummeted.

_ Knife. Somehow, she didn’t sense it coming. _

At least this particular death seemed to have been surrounded with little glimmers of light. The others had felt pointless from where Aiden stood, but apparently the assassination of the mediator had sobered both planetary factions.

Terrified of Jedi or Republic retaliation, they cooperated fully with the next team sent to continue negotiations.

Peace was found.

_ Murderer apprehended... acted alone... opposed to the peace process because of perceived injuries done to his family by the other political party... _

_In prison now. For life, and quite a bit beyond._

That felt a little satisfying.

Aiden wondered if Harissa found any comfort in it, or if she tried to ignore the whole thing.

_ She probably blames herself for not being in the room, and assumes she could have made a difference. _

Or...

She probably  _ had  _ thought that.

_ And then she lost Yema  _ while  _ in the room with him. Damn. _

_Harsh._

He swiped to another document, then let out a low whistle.

The padawan squirmed.

He ignored her.

Lela Astar took  _ the  _ most detailed notes he’d ever seen.

_ For the  _ love  _ of... _

He’d wade through those later.

Maybe.

_ Now what? Her second Clan Mother is fine, so... first Mother it is, then. Jezui Yid, Knight, had the care of Clan Purgil. _

_Purgil..._

_Wasn’t Nett a Purgil?_

Sure, it was a  _ lot  _ of years ago, more than Aiden was comfortable looking in the face, but...

_ Yeah. Nett was a Purgil. _

“Insufferable jerk,” he muttered.

A huffed sigh silenced him again.

He really should thank her. She was a valuable reminder why he couldn’t just give in and follow in Ima-Gun’s footsteps.

_ Wouldn’t the universe laugh at that. End up realizing what  _ my  _ master must have gone through. _

Smarter than that. Much too smart for that.

_ Hit by a... speeder. _

His eyebrows shot up.

_ Whew. Okay. Clan outing... Harissa four years old... out of control speeder hit her as she turned around to face it. _

Aiden frowned.  _ Another  _ Jedi who didn’t sense something quite soon enough.

He prided himself on his lack of superstition, but...

_ That is... quite the coincidence. _

_ Speeder passed over the kids’ heads... unhurt except for the tallest— oh. Harissa. The repulsor field too close, knocked her down... scraped knees and palms. Nothing much. Quick Halls of Healing visit, cleared to return to the nursery by Master Barssand... nothing useful, nothing useful... _

Information on the driver of the speeder, who had apparently been broken up about the whole thing... had a health condition he hadn’t been aware of... had a seizure, hit a Jedi. Was placed in the care of specialists.

_ Nothing interesting... _

_Alright. Last one._

_Finder._

 

* * *

 

Harissa watched her master, feeling a painful yearning in her heart.

They’d been battling for days, now. Moving from one hidey-hole to the next.

It felt a lot like New Draxis, except infinitely dryer. And the natives were all one species.

She’d wanted to resent them. To hold them accountable for the suffering New Draxis was likely undergoing...

But it wasn’t quite that simple.

_ This square is also a box. _

These people had been oppressed for countless centuries.

No.

_ Longer. _

They had nowhere safe to leave their families...

So the little ones remained in the camp too, their parents and older siblings struggling to protect and hide them from the merciless droids.

_ They  _ were grateful for any help they could get.

_ They  _ watched Ima-Gun with wary, pained eyes... but thanked him for his help.

_ They  _ listened to his guidance and military suggestions.

And soon...

They had a place in Harissa’s heart. They didn’t hail her as a hero. They just wanted to protect their families, and own  _ themselves  _ and their home. She was just another person. And not a particularly important one, at that.

She found she didn’t miss the hero-worship. This actually felt more comfortable.

No.

The Twi’leks they had come to rescue were worth helping.

_ I was wrong to refuse them help. I was too focused on what was in front of me. _

She still didn’t think New Draxis should have been handed over to the Separatists...

But abandoning Ryloth wouldn’t have been any better.

_ There’s supposed to be a right choice, and a wrong one. The universe is supposed to be simpler than this. _

Only it...

Wasn’t.

The Twi’leks she’d met were sweet, determined, passionately in love with freedom, cherished their families, and ready to throw what little they had left away in order to secure a future for their children.

_ Cham... _

Cham was a bit different.

He had all of that.

And a grudge the size of a gundark on his shoulder.

_ No. You can’t _ see  _ his shoulder, the chip is so big. _

But that was one man. One man, who treated her master and herself like second-class citizens. Or worse.

_ But I’m sworn to protect his people just as much as the New Draxans. And as much as every other planet we aren’t currently on, but probably _ should _ be. _

The thought of the countless millions who needed their help and didn’t have it made it just a little difficult to walk. The weight of it wasn’t something she wanted to bear alone.

_ But how can I apologize? I acted like a child... and he hasn’t said anything about it... _

Who was she fooling?

_ It’s just your own stupid pride _ , she scolded herself.  _ And there’s a reason why pride is rejected by Jedi. It makes it impossible to say _ I was wrong. I am sorry.  _ So... just  _ do  _ it. _

Ima-Gun was far enough away that she couldn’t make out what he was murmuring to the little green Twi’lek child, but she could sense his gentle glow in the Force.

And the little girl seemed happy.

_ I think that’s the child Threetu was helping the other day.... _

Ima-Gun would forgive her. Of course he would.  _ And then we can move on. _

She took a step in their direction, then froze as Cham stormed into the room.

_ Yeah. I’m just going to wait until he’s _ — 

Syndulla yelled something in Twi’leki, first at Ima-Gun, then at his daughter.

A flurry of hurt and fury came flying back from the child, but he pointed to the door, and she stormed from the room.

And then he turned on her master and all but screamed in his face.

Harissa couldn’t understand a word of it, but anger built inside her anyway.

She understood that he saw things in a very black-and-white way, this Cham Syndulla...

But enough was  _ enough. _

She was on her way over when Ima-Gun lowered his head, spread out his hands, and, murmuring something, backed away.

He met her, lightly caught her elbow, turned her around and drew her along with him  _ away  _ from the Twi’lek freedom fighter.

“What is his  _ problem _ ?” Harissa demanded, not caring if Cham heard her.

Ima-Gun’s voice was considerably quieter. “It’s his daughter, Harissa. It’s only natural he would feel threatened by a Nikto interacting with her. I should have been swifter to turn her away when she came to me.”

“Maybe it  _ is  _ natural, but it’s  _ specieism. _ ”

He sighed, stopped walking, and turned to face her.

“Harissa... his people have been oppressed all their lives. I can handle a little rejection in the short-term.”

“No. _No._ ” Harissa scowled. “If we insinuated they belonged in servitude, that would be unacceptable. So for him to insinuate you are a slaver and someone who would look at a child and see profit is _just_ as unacceptable.”

He shook his head. “Padawan. We are not here to demand our rights. We’re here to protect  _ theirs _ .”

“They can’t decry specieism and then punish you for the accident of your birth! You can’t help being born a Nikto, and you’re doing whatever you can see to do, right in front of you, to make sure  _ they  _ have the same freedoms  _ you  _ enjoy.  _ Why  _ does that make you a second-class citizen?”

“I didn’t say it was right. I said it was understandable. That by seeing the world through his eyes for a moment, we can find compassion and forgiveness.”

Harissa threw her hand out in a sweeping, frustrated gesture. “Maybe you  _ shouldn’t  _ see it through his eyes. Maybe you should stick up for yourself. Fight back. Maybe you should assume there is value in how you see the world too. Maybe you should...  _ punish _ ... your padawan for having disrespected you and made you look bad in front of the Council and the  _ Supreme Chancellor  _ of the Republic, and for sulking the last few days—”

She swallowed hard to try to hide the sudden rock she’d discovered in her throat. The compassion in his eyes didn’t help.

He placed a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Harissa. Our first fight was bound to happen sometime. Did you think we would never have one?”

She felt  _ stupid _ , now, but...

She sent him a guilty nod.

“If you feel the need to hear me say it, I forgive you. But can you understand my point of view? I wasn’t angry, because the way you saw the situation was understandable.”

“But it was wrong. And I said unkind things.” She tried very hard to separate Cham’s situation from her own.  _ He’s pushing it much farther than I ever would... _   
“What did I promise you, Harissa? If you came with me, I would make mistakes, and that you would also—?”

“Make mistakes,” she murmured.

He gave her a nod. “The process of handling a mistake is very similar to handling a success. Accepting it happened and focusing on what is in front of us now. If you feel you made a mistake, then beating yourself up over it will not help. This is a new moment. All that matters in this moment is what you choose to do with it.”

She reached up and placed her hand over his. “I want to  _ help. _ And I want to be more like you.”

His eyes saddened. It hurt Harissa to see it.

“No, Harissa. I am flawed. You have but to look into your own past with me to see mistakes I have made. No. Don’t be like me. Be like  _ yourself.  _ You have the capacity for so much beauty. The Force will sing with you as you reach out to it. You don’t need me. I am simply here to help you look into  _ yourself. _ ”

Harissa’s soul, pulled away from him for what felt like an eternity, reached out again. Felt the strong warmth of his presence.

_ Maybe Master Yoda knew what he was doing. _

_ Maybe he chose what seemed to be a harsh path because he knew this could be where we would end up. _

Maybe... if she looked at the situation from Yoda’s perspective for a moment...

_ Perhaps I judged him harshly. _

_When we get home... I may need to thank him for forcing me to make the leap one last time._

 

* * *

 

Aiden sat back in the chair at his desk in his office and stared at the ceiling.

He’d been interrupted, a week ago, when rifling through Harissa’s past.

He’d just this evening been able to get back to work.

The last piece in the puzzle of Harissa’s losses was accounted for: her Finder.

Only...

The situation didn’t seem to be resolving itself.

Her heart had failed.  _ That  _ was the precise cause of death.

But nobody knew  _ why.  _ He’d gone through the reports. He even tracked down the Healer who had performed the autopsy and quizzed him for anything he could remember.

She had no history of health issues, she wasn’t young, but she wasn’t old either...

Fit, strong, had run countless missions before...

_ I don’t like the picture that’s forming. _

It wasn’t even a  _ picture,  _ exactly. There weren’t enough details for that.

_ All I know is that people  _ die  _ around Harissa Nol. _

A shiver ran down his back. Not from superstitious dread...

But genuine fear for his friend.  _ Something  _ was wrong. He did  _ not  _ believe in coincidence.

A dim part of his mind,  _ waaay _ in the back, whispered,  _ what if it  _ is  _ that? Simple bad luck? _

No. He had nothing, yet.

There was only one thing left to do.

Find every person who had ever known Harissa Nol and the people who had died, and find a lead.

It was going to be a kark-load of footwork, paperwork, time, and headache.

On top of his already pushed-to-the-breaking-point workload.

_ And I was telling  _ Gun  _ he needs to take a break... _

He groaned and rubbed his tired eyes.

_ Not yet. Can’t go on leave yet. _

His patients needed him.

And so did Ima-Gun.

If this turned out to be nothing, his friend was going seriously owe him one. No. A lot more than one.

But if it turned out to  _ not  _ be  _ nothing _ ...

That thought drove the exhaustion from his eyes and he headed out the door, turning his feet towards youngling territory.

Time to see if anyone remembered who Finder Wenna Xiez’s friends and acquaintances had been.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

“The Separatists don’t think the Senate is worth saving. That it’s too corrupt to salvage.”

Keeli smiled to himself as he listened to Harissa’s words.

The Republic forces had taken what shelter they could find from the scorching noonday sun in the hollows of the towering rock formations.

The difference in temperature between where he sat in the shade, and the sun-baked stone just centimeters from the toes of his boots was  _ ridiculous. _

And just a little horrifying.

Listening to his commander and general talk helped distract him from the heat and dust.

It felt  _ right _ to have the tension between them eliminated.

This is the way it was supposed to be.

“I once told you that it’s a thousand little choices by the average person who put politicians in power. Do you remember?”

“Yes.”  
“The Separatists think that by dethroning the politicians they can fix what is broken. The problem is, they haven’t changed the  _ people. _ So even if they by force place honest individuals in positions of power, the corruption will return... and it will return quickly.”

“Because the people haven’t changed. So to make sure this  _ worked,  _ the Separatists would have to change the average person on their worlds, not just beat us in battle?”

Ima-Gun sighed. “Wars very rarely solve problems, Harissa. What  _ does  _ bring change are the peace-talks that take place once all sides are sick of fighting and the drain on their resources.”

“The talking. So why don’t we just do the talking  _ first _ , and skip the middle, violent part?”

“ _ That  _ is a question Jedi have been asking the universe for thousands of years, my Padawan. Sometimes, they listen and respond. Other times...” Keeli could practically hear the shrug in his voice. “To achieve lasting change in government, the  _ people  _ have to be willing to work for it.  _ Live  _ for it. Not just kill for it. Lend us your thoughts, Captain?”  
Keeli looked up, surprised. “Sir? I don’t— have any.”  
“Somehow I find that hard to believe,” Ima-Gun smiled back. 

“Permission to speak freely?”

“Granted.”

“All I know is, the Seppies keep sending droids to kill me and my brothers. That’s about as personal as it gets.” Keeli felt the pent-up anger that always boiled somewhere in his core rise to the surface. “And the Senate  _ bought  _ us to  _ die  _ for them.”

He should stop. He really should.

He scrambled to his feet to make a swift getaway—

But the words that hung like acid in his mouth  _ demanded  _ to be said.

“Maybe the system deserves to go down in flames.”

 

* * *

 

Ima-Gun watched Keeli stride away, head ducked, resentment a dark cloud around him.

It had been a sudden storm, arising without a hint of warning.

Harissa sprang up to run after him.

Ima-Gun felt sadly pleased.

Keeli kept too much of the formality of command between himself and his general to allow Ima-Gun to really see what he struggled with. This quiet outburst had been quite a first for him.

The likelihood was the man was about to shut down, shocked and probably feeling guilty for what he would consider to be traitorous words that perhaps he hadn't allowed himself to  _ think _ before, let alone  _ speak. _

Harissa, on the other hand...

Lacked the formality and intimidation her rank could, in theory, command.

He might be willing to let her help.

Ima-Gun certainly hoped so.

 

* * *

 

“Is it really the _Senate_?”

Keeli stopped, but didn ’t look around. “Is it really what?”

“What we die for? When one of us goes down, are we really dying for  _ them _ ? Or is it for the people we’ve met along the way? Skid— I don’t think he went down for the politicians. I think it was for the farmers he’d fallen in love with. And isn’t Ced fighting for Jesp? We’re fighting for people who are  _ worth  _ it. And we’re fighting for freedom.”

“My boys don ’t have it,” Keeli growled.

Harissa moved so he would face her without any effort on his part. “No. But Dooku won’t give it to you either. The Separatist Parliament has shown no signs of caring about your welfare. But if the Republic stands, then we have a chance. If the Senate remains, then the senators who are fighting for you and your brothers will still have authority and weight to wield. We need the system to last so that they can win your brothers the freedom they  _ deserve. _ We just have to survive this war—”

“It ’s already too late for so many.” Keeli glared at her, half daring her to back down, and half begging her to  _ not.  _ “ _ So many  _ of my brothers have died, and  _ no one cares _ .”

It was a pain that never went away. It hounded his steps and made sleeping difficult at night.

“Master Di cares,” Harissa said, voice gentle. “And so do I. And I will  _ never  _ forget. Give the good senators a chance. And the Jedi Order won’t leave your brothers until they are  _ free _ . It’s why we’re out here, with you, day after day. And we aren’t going to just walk away. We’re going to endure this with you until it’s over.”

Keeli stared at her, feeling the conviction in her words.

And he almost... felt  _ hope.  _ It wasn’t something he experienced very often.

For a long moment he didn’t know what to say.

And then he did.

“You turned out okay. You know that?”

 

* * *

 

“I wouldn’t say we were close.” Ali-Alann lowered himself into a chair, and Aiden could practically  _ hear  _ his joints creak. “I think you might gain more from talking to Master Ilfud.”  
Aiden recorded the name, asking, “Is Ilfud in the Temple currently?”

“That I  _ don’t _ know. I do have his frequency. I imagine he’d be willing to talk to you even if he’s not present.”  
“Thanks. Can you remember anything about Master Ziex’s final mission?”

Ali-Alann held out his hand for the datapad, and Aiden gave it to him.

“I remember the shock when the news came. I remember a baby who would not stop crying. Poor creature. You looked into her eyes and saw a universe of pain there. The crying lasted for months. She would just go on and on until she fell asleep exhausted. After four months of it, Jezui was at her wits’ end.” The old master completed transferring Ilfud’s information and returned the datapad. “Quite the challenge for Jezui’s first youngling clan.”  
_ And her last. _

Aiden sent him a smile. “You don’t know what prompted Master Ziex to find her in the first place?”

His companion shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t suppose you know why her planet of origin is behind so many levels of security?”

Ali-Alann leaned forward, face suddenly earnest. “Son, Wenna Ziex was the most patient and  _ kind  _ Finder I have ever known. And I’ve known a  _ lot. _ She wasn’t some untested newly-knighted kid. She knew her business, and she was  _ good  _ at it. When a new Finder comes to me for advice, I tell them to study  _ her  _ missions. She did not  _ ever  _ take a baby unless the parents were  _ sure  _ that’s what they wanted. No manipulation. No rushing. No half-truths or  _ it’s what’s best  _ maneuvering. She laid it all out, straight and clear,  _ exactly  _ what would happen from there on out. So if that child’s origins are hidden as far as you say, you can know  _ one  _ thing for sure. It’s not to hide her from her  _ parents _ , but to  _ protect  _ her.”

A little surprised by the gravity of the older man, Aiden nodded. “Good to know.”

“Does it have an age-lock?”

“Yes.”

“Set for adulthood, or knighthood?”

“The former.”  
Ali-Alann gave himself a knowing nod. “ _ That  _ is it, my friend. You work with younglings long enough, and you begin to see patterns. The seal is there not for fear of what the  _ child  _ would do if she had that information, but what an  _ adult  _ might do  _ to  _ her if  _ they  _ had that information. If it was irrelevant to the world outside, she’d have access upon her knighting, whether still legally a minor or not. No. This is about protecting her from someone who could  _ do  _ something to her if she is still a minor.”

That sparked Aiden’s interest. “What kind of scenarios would be reasonable?”

“Hutt space, or a similarly politically-charged area. If the family want their child to be raised as a Jedi, we feel they have that right. Whether the Senate likes it or not. Sometimes that requires keeping the origin secret until nothing more could be done about it. If the Senate caught wind of some of these children, they would try to force us to send them back.”

“Which is why the lock is until they are of an age when the Senate allows them to decide their own fate,” Aiden concluded.

Another nod from Ali-Alann. “If they are of royal blood, or any other sort of contention-centered bloodline, we might conceal their origins in order to protect against claims of individuals other than the parents to either take them away or try to harm them. We’ve had many struggles over the years, and we’ve learned how to hide.”

“Can you tell me why she was placed in that particular clan?”

Ali-Alann shook his head. “Ilfud would have made that call. You’ll have to ask him.”

“Thank you very much for your help. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions about Masters Yid and... the second one...” Aiden skimmed through his datapad, searching for the name—

“Tatta,” Ali-Alann supplied. “Onna Tatta took over Clan Purgil. Brave woman. She didn’t come to us young and full of energy. No, she’d lived quite a bit before that. But you can talk to  _ her  _ yourself. So what do you want to know about Jezui Yid?”

 

* * *

 

“I don’t know how long I will have.” Ilfud’s hologram looked behind himself.

Aiden struggled to keep his eyes open, the lack of sleep beginning to catch up.  _ And in a couple hours, it will be back to Healing duties again...  _ “Should I try another time?”

“No... just if I disappear on you, don’t take offense.”

Why couldn’t he have just said  _ yes _ ?

“I have a list of questions about Padawan Harissa Nol. That’s the child who Master Wenna Ziex entrusted to you—”

“How is she?”

“She’s been taken by another master, and is on Ryloth currently.”

“Tough planet, hardy people,” Ilfud reminisced. “Your questions?”

Aiden blinked hard, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to gather what was left of his ability to focus. “Reason why you placed Harissa with Jezui Yid?”

“It felt right.”

“Can you be more specific?”

Ilfud grimaced. “Most Finders spend a little time with the younglings they locate. They get a sense of the child. They see them at home, they care for them on the return to the Temple.... They also spend time with the Clan Mothers. They find a match. I only had Harissa for an hour, at most. I just had to go on gut instinct. There aren’t specifics to give, I’m afraid. I was needed elsewhere, so I couldn’t take the usual time necessary.”  
“What can you tell me about Jezui Yid?”

“She was new. I hadn’t had a chance to really get to know her yet. Try a Clan Mother who raised children around the same time.”  
“Any suggestions for me?”

“Ah... Keren Veth? His clan was just across the hall from Jezui’s.”

Aiden scrawled the name into his datapad. “Did you know Lela Astar, Malli Kehayu or Yema Ugani?”

“No. Sorry.”

“Onna Tatta?”

“Yes. She took over Clan Purgil after Jezui’s accident. Shocked all of us. Losing Clan Mothers to death isn’t something that happens often.”  
“How would you describe Master Tatta’s time with Clan Purgil— that first round?”

“Exhausting. Why? Is Harissa in some kind of trouble?” Ilfud looked concerned.

Aiden considered. “No. But there is potentially danger. I’m trying to figure out where it’s coming from.”

“That’s not at all mysterious.”

“Speaking of, do you know anything about Master Ziex’s mission?”

“Actually, yes.” Ilfud shook his head. “She contacted me on her way out. Said she either had a communication through the Force, or a wild avian chase, and asked me to take her Malastare mission. Possible Gran baby— and that has nothing to do with what you’re looking for.”

“Not the Gran, no, but what was this communication? Vision? Dream?”

Ilfud glanced over his shoulder again, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. “Didn’t say. It seemed to be a sudden decision on her part. She’d been en route to Malastare when the switch happened.”

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Yes. She had coordinates and the name of a planet in a system in Wild Space. She had me run it through the Archives and Republic data storage, but all they had was that the system  _ existed.  _ Some explorer saw it from a distance and never bothered to get more than a planet-count before moving on. I couldn’t confirm the name for her.”

“Is that why it’s so heavily guarded in Harissa’s files?”

Ilfud shook his head. “No. Since Tebban— that’s what she called it— is not in Republic space and very much out of Jedi jurisdiction, the Baby-thieving Faction in the Senate would have had a heyday if they found out. I don’t know if you were aware of it, but fifteen years ago was  _ not  _ a good time to be a Finder.”

“Was that the whole Kimm child disaster?”

“Yeah. We were in the middle of that. So Wenna decided to keep the whole thing on the quiet until she knew for sure what was up. Because of that, I set the security for the system of origin.”

“So  _ you  _ are responsible for that,” Aiden accused. “Finally.”

“Sounds like you’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Two weeks, in what spare moments I could scrape together. So the lock was so that your...  _ what  _ did you call the Senators?”

“The Baby-thieving Faction? Sorry. Finder slang.”

“That was to keep them from noticing Harissa, so they couldn’t put pressure to us to throw her out or send her back.”  
“Correct. Because everything was so unknown, I suggested Wenna take someone from ExplorCorps with her, but she always worked alone, and she had no interest in waiting several hours, perhaps days, in order to accommodate taking someone else.”

“How did she seem physically at the time?”

“You want to know whether her death was reasonable. I looked into it back then; I couldn’t get anything conclusive. The Healers checked for anything unusual, trying to figure out if she’d picked up some sort of infection in Wild Space. Planets that haven’t been explored yet can be... I’m sure you can imagine. They ran every test they could think of. Fact remains, until that planet is thoroughly investigated, I don’t expect we’ll discover what it was that took her.”

“You  _ do  _ think it has something to do with Tebban, though?”

“I don’t think her heart just  _ quit  _ for no reason.”

Ilfud gave him a nod. “They didn’t quarantine the baby?”

“What for? Heart failure? And how long would be adequate? No. Though we considered it.”

_ I wonder... _

“How are you feeling? Are you feeling less sharp than you should be?”

“You think Harissa is a carrier for something?” Ilfud discerned.

Aiden spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “People near her seem to die from rookie mistakes, and I can’t find medical causes.”

Ilfud sighed. “ExplorCorps is barely functioning at the moment, thanks to the war. And Republic explorers have so many demands on their time and resources... it could be decades before Tebban is touched. And as for my own health, while I’m tired, I  _ wasn’t _ before the war.”  
Aiden heard an enraged shout, followed by the sound of blasters firing.

“Got to go,” Ilfud muttered, cutting the connection.

For several long moments Aiden sat in silence in the darkness.

_ How does one tackle a disease you can’t measure? _

Harissa had lived in the Temple her whole life, brushing into Jedi every day.

Why, then, weren’t more affected?

_ Only people she spends time with... and of them... only adults have died. _

_ If  _ that was actually what was happening.

He could go to the Council and demand quarantine. They might even listen.

But once that was initiated... when would it end?

It would put her life on hold until research could be diverted from the war effort.

_ But if she’s just starting to gain confidence, what kind of a blow would that be? I need proof. I need something solid before I overturn her life like that. _

He stood up to go seek out the next person on his list, stumbled—

_ No. I have to sleep first. _

  
* * *

 

Ima-Gun stared up at what was left in the supply holds of the Recovery, and wished they’d had a chance to re-stock before settling in on Ryloth.

It wasn’t like Kenobi, on  _ his  _ way out, had possessed any reserves to offer.

_ Time to call for a supply ship. Again. _

They’d been requesting one routinely since hitting dirt a month ago.

It didn’t help that the Twi’leks’ own resources had been bombed yesterday.

Ima-Gun closed his eyes against the pain building in his forehead.

He was hoping for a Council call when he pulled the holodisc from his belt, but he found Aiden’s worried face instead.

“Dross. What is it?”

“I talked to over fifty people. Clan Mother. Second Finder. All of her clan mates. And everyone I could find who knew Wenna Ziex, Jezui Yid, Lela Astar, Malli Kehayu, and Yema Ugani—”

“Dross, you look terrible.” Ima-Gun sat on a crate and stared at his friend in shock. “Are you  _ sleeping _ ?”

“Guess what they described? Jezui Yid, exhausted. Onna Tatta felt like her mind was running through water all the time. Clan mates found their minds considerably clearer after joining their masters and leaving their clan. Yema Ugani felt slightly off. Malli Kehayu felt her edge just a little dulled. Lela Astar. Guess what?”

Ima-Gun felt dread build in his gut. “What?”

“Took detailed notes of assignments. Ridiculously detailed. She noted that she was feeling just a bit off. Just a bit fuzzy, no idea why. That she planned to work through it. She took a knife in the ribs the next day.”

Ima-Gun watched his friend’s face, saw a quiet edge of panic in its familiar lines.

“Do you want to know how many of the people closest to Harissa still live?  _ One _ , and her clan mates. That’s  _ it,  _ Gun. They all seemed to experience what you described. And then they  _ died. _ ”

“So there were no reasonable explanations?”

“Oh,  _ all  _ the explanations were reasonable,” Aiden countered. “For both Clan Mothers, it was their first clan.  _ Steep  _ learning curve. Of course Master Tatta’s second clan went smoother. As for the Clan mates, they would escape a certain level of fog simply as a part of growing up. First padawan for both Lela and Ugani; maybe the extra pressure simply distracted them. And Malli was dealing with the weight of losing her former padawan. Probably not sleeping well.  _ You  _ aren’t sleeping well.”

“You’re going to have to spell it out for me.” Ima-Gun still had so many things he had to do before he could quit for the evening—

Aiden clenched his fist. “ _ Yes. _ Because your mind isn’t working as quickly as it should. And your body is reacting just a bit slower. Not enough to be  _ really  _ obvious, but enough to  _ kill. _ ”

“You think  _ Harissa  _ is doing this?”

“I think she’s the only consistent factor in all of these examples. It’s happened  _ too often  _ to ignore.”

“Certainly you don’t think it a curse, Dross, or has my padawan converted the great skeptic?”

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ laugh, Gun!”

The vehemence of Aiden’s voice shocked Ima-Gun.

“If it was a disease she transferred to each of you, her clan mates shouldn’t have gotten  _ better  _ with distance. But  _ something  _ is wrong. Maybe it’s a disease, the likes of which we’ve never seen before. It’s Wild Space. That’s where she’s  _ from _ , Gun. She’s human, but who  _ knows  _ what she was exposed to out there—”

“She spends as much time with the clones as she does with me. There has been no sign of  _ this  _ in Keeli, or the squad she spends the majority of her time with.”

Aiden dragged a hand down his face. “Alright. I  _ know  _ I can’t  _ prove  _ anything.”

_ He sounds like Harissa did back at the Temple. _

A similar, helpless desperation.

And Aiden wasn’t easily unsettled.

“Something is off. I don’t know what, but  _ something _ . And distance from her seems to lessen the effect. Ima-Gun,  _ something  _ is wrong.”

The Nikto’s eyes widened in surprise. “You haven’t called me that in years.”

“I know. So make sure you pay attention. You don’t have any margin for error. Her Clan Mother died on a leisurely morning walk.”

“What is it you suggest? I send her home?”

“ _ Yes. _ For now.”

Ima-Gun shook his head. “I can’t do that, Aiden.”

“Can you for  _ once  _ forget you’re as stubborn as I am?  _ Please _ ?”

Ima-Gun’s comlink blinked. “Hold on a minute. Captain Keeli?”

“We need you down here, General. They found us.”

The intercom activated overhead. “General? We have Separatist ships entering the system.”

Ima-Gun threw Aiden a look. “I’ll be careful.”

“You  _ better  _ be.”

With a nod, Ima-Gun cut the connection.

 

* * *

 

Aiden threw himself back in his chair and growled.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

Ima-Gun watched as his padawan fought the droids with confidence and grace.

He recognized pieces of his personal saber style that she had adopted into her own. He saw how she capitalized on her experience with the clones and growing knowledge of the Twi’lek freedom fighters to maximize their collective effectiveness.

His heart ached with a terrible yearning.

_ Was  _ there something amiss with his padawan? And if there was... how could he help her?

And as a blaster bolt nearly winged him, sending a jolt of startled shock through his brain...

He wondered if he should listen to Aiden.

 

* * *

 

The battle was going as well as could be anticipated.

Everyone was hungry— rations had been cut  _ again. _

If someone had tried to tell her a month ago that she would  _ miss  _ army food, Harissa would have laughed in their face.

She wasn’t laughing now.

The men were conserving firepower of every sort, knowing that if they ran  _ out _ , they’d be in serious trouble.

It was difficult.

It was worse to see the Twi’lek children hungry.

Harissa kept cutting her own portions in half, and slipping bits to the kids who seemed most in need. She saw clones doing the same.

Suspected her master sometimes went without entirely to accomplish the same purpose.

She executed a leap, roll, bounded up to bisect an enemy—

Her foot tried to push off the rounded head of a battle droid—

The head rolled, just a little—

She found herself off-balance and falling.

She sensed a bolt and swung her saber at it, but missed—

She felt searing pain as the beam of red sank through her thigh.

She snarled, more than screamed.

Clones swelled around her, and hands hauled her up.

“Get the Commander out of here!”

“I got her!”

“Hold the line!”

“General, the Commander’s been hit!”

Harissa grit her teeth and stumbled along, trying to carry her own weight as two troopers walked her back to Bandage.

She tried her best not to yelp as they sat her down on two crates pushed together, but that wasn’t something she could help, despite the fact of having seen clones pull it off.

“Let’s have a look at that, Commander.”

Before she even looked up, she knew that voice. “Bandage. Thank the Force. I don’t know what happened. I just  _ missed  _ one—”

“Happens, Commander.” Pressure against her shoulder convinced her to lie back on the crates. “Just need to make sure you can wait.” A hypo hissed against her neck, and Bandage unlatched the armor from her leg. As he pulled it away, she cried out.

Oh, that  _ hurt— _

And suddenly, fear was back. At a strength and level which she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and she squinted up into the upside-down face of her master. “Hey,” she grit.

“Well. This is new,” Ima-Gun offered back.

Harissa blinked away— were those  _ tears _ ? How embarrassing _ —  _ “I’ll be on my feet in no time.”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a little time,” Bandage countered. “We need to get her to an actual facility. Next shuttle to the Recovery, you’re on it. Brains! Is there room on the gunship for one more?”

“We’ll make room.”

Ima-Gun patted Harissa’s shoulder. “I want her sent back to the Temple.”  
“ _ What _ ?” Harissa sat up, let out a groaning hiss, and fell back. “No. Treat me like the men. If the Recovery is good enough for them, it’s good enough for—”

“No arguments, my Padawan.” Ima-Gun lowered his voice to a murmur. “Not this time. I need you to trust me.”

There was something intense in his eyes. She wanted to ask him  _ why _ , but the pain was  _ really— _

“I thought the hypo was supposed to make it  _ stop  _ hurting?” she growled.

Bandage came into view, wiping his hands off on a rag. “Might take a bit to kick in.”

“And what if it  _ doesn’t _ ?” she demanded, with just a hint of panic.

“The chance your body is one that doesn’t respond is low, Commander. Really low,” Brains offered helpfully. “The odds are in your favor with this one.”

“But it  _ does happen _ ?” His assertion wasn’t as comforting as he’d meant it to be—

“Padawan?”

Harissa looked back into Ima-Gun’s eyes, and knew he could see the terror she was trying to cover with gruff bravado. His grip on her shoulder tightened.

Somehow, she gave him a nod, clinging to the strength in his eyes, since she felt none of her own. “I’ll go back to the Temple.”

“Who do we have that we can spare?” Ima-Gun looked up, taking away her tether. She bit her tongue and closed her eyes.

“I’ll take her.”

“You can fly?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do it, then. And don’t stop until she’s with the Healers.”

“You have my word.”

“Good enough for me.”

That last statement from her master suggested he was speaking to someone who needed that additional affirmation...

Harissa squinted her eyes open to find Chopper.

Even as she felt herself being carried away from her master, she allowed herself a little hint of pleasure.

She knew how Ima-Gun Di thought.

And yeah. Chopper  _ did  _ need this.

The ride to the Recovery was turbulent, explosions rattling the air and then space around them.

She’d never heard the groans of the men from  _ this  _ angle before, lying beside them, packed almost like cargo.

By the time they reached the hangar bay, it was all she could do to focus on  _ not  _ crying.

She was  _ not  _ going to bear it  _ less well  _ than her boys—

She found herself settled, the rumble of engines—

“It’s going to be alright, Commander,” promised her pilot. “They’ll get you patched up in no time.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Chopper was too focused on escaping to hyperspace to look at her, and they were alone.

For the first time since she’d received the wound, she found herself unobserved.

Her shoulders shook and she bit her lip.

The terror that had shot through her system as she realized she wasn’t going to deflect that shot.

The pain, the  _ shock  _ of actually being hit—

The fact she couldn’t still the trembling in her hands—

_ Why am I scared? It’s non-lethal, it’s hardly the ugliest wound I could have received— _

Somehow, that wasn’t loosening the grip fear had on her windpipe.

She hated it. She  _ hated  _ it.

_ Just another experience,  _ she promised herself.

But all she could see was that Ima-Gun  _ wasn’t here, by her side. _

And the fact that she felt she needed him to be made her feel weak.

 

* * *

 

“Retreat to the village. We’ll spend the night there. We will try to hold it, but warn your people we may not be able to. In all likelihood, we will have to evacuate in the morning.” Ima-Gun turned from Cham’s second-in-command, a kind-hearted man named Gobi, to Keeli. “If we can convince the droids it’s a bad idea to follow us, we may get a respite long enough to get some sleep. At least trenches are already in place, so we can use the defenses already built.”

_ The men need rest more often when running on cut rations. It’s just how it  _ is.

Keeli gave him a nod, his businesslike captain refusing to show any hint of complaint.

Weight, like a heavy hand clamping down on Ima-Gun’s brain and body, evaporated in an instant. He could  _ think.  _ And he could sense things clearly again.

The suddenness of it made it almost difficult to see for a moment.

And then he tapped his comm. “Admiral Dao, General Di here. What is the Commander’s status?”

“Her shuttle just made the jump to hyperspace.”

_ Dross was right. _

The realization made it hard to breathe.

_ Oh, Harissa... _

But he had a battle to win, and it wasn’t going to be easy.

So he put his padawan out of his mind and got to work.

 

* * *

 

They’d stolen maybe four hours of sleep before the barrage started up again.

So the clones stumbled back out there to drive droids off  _ again. _

And then crashed back to the ground to try to get just a  _ little  _ more rest...

Keeli heaved a sigh as he saw the sun come up, ready to roast them once more.

He missed the Commander already. Missed her optimism, the way she cheered the men, brought sparkles of light to the battlefield.

He could see his men felt the loss as well.

They looked grimmer. Muttered louder.

His General was struggling with something. Keeli knew him well enough to recognize the signs.

_ What is it? _

And then there was that bizarre decision to send the Commander back to the Temple for treatment...

 

* * *

 

Dao positioned his ships as best he could, but there was no way he was going to be able to overthrow the blockade now firmly in place. Not without help.

At least the Commander’s shuttle had gotten through.

Ten minutes later, and that wouldn’t have been possible.

Dao didn’t like the look of things up here...

And the reports he received from the planet actually managed to sound worse, somehow. They wanted another supply run.

It would make the men up here hurt just a little more, but Dao would  _ do  _ it, if only the ships would be able to reach the  _ surface. _

There was no way he was sending precious rations out to simply be blown up.

 

* * *

 

“What have we got, Brains?”

“Not looking good, Sir. They just keep coming.”  
Ima-Gun nodded. “Any clever solutions for this one?”

Brains looked up from his electrobinoculars and shook his head.

An AT-TE damaged the engine of a hyena droid, and it spiraled out of control.

Ima-Gun sensed disaster approaching.

Strange, to have that talent fully restored to him after having operated without it functioning properly.

The fighter crashed into the cliffside, and the resulting destruction of droid parts, stone, and village wreckage crushed the AT-TE, throwing it to its knees.

Ima-Gun and Brains each threw an arm up to shield against the blinding explosion and lethal shards. As the Jedi looked back, he saw Cham on his blurrg headed his way.

Leaving Brains to return to his calculations, Ima-Gun moved to meet the Twi’lek.

Keeli followed him, a brown-and-white shadow.

Ima-Gun knew the news would be bad the instant he saw Cham’s face.

There wasn’t a hint of a scowl, and he called him  _ Master Jedi. _

Ima-Gun had never seen the man  _ less  _ hostile. He felt his heart sink as the blow came.

The heavy weapons systems had finally quit. They just didn’t have the power to run anymore, no matter how much they were coaxed.

Ima-Gun sensed the blurrg’s own fear and discomfort. There was very little he could do to make the overall situation better, but he  _ could  _ do something for the creature who couldn’t understand this world of chaos.

He rubbed its head, filling himself with calm and pouring it into the creature’s dim Force-signature.

He commed Dao again, more for Cham’s benefit than his own. “Admiral Dao, this is General Di. We’re in trouble down here. We need those supplies immediately.”

 

* * *

 

Dao drew in a deep breath through his nose as the Recovery’s escort took a severe beating.

And here was Di, asking for help again.

“We are critically low on fuel and ammunition,” Dao pointed out. If he couldn’t maneuver his ships, and couldn’t shoot back...

“Contact the Jedi Council again,” Di directed. “Tell them reinforcements must be dispatched without delay.”

Dao pled his case again, actually reaching Yoda, Windu, and Kenobi this time.

“Surely there must be  _ something  _ you can do,” Kenobi offered with the optimism that seemed never-ending for him.

And then came the glare across the bridge’s viewports that signaled the Recovery stood alone in the field of battle.

The ship trembled under his feet, a groan of metal.

She was hurting.

“Main reactor’s been hit, Sir. Systems are shutting down. We’re dead in space!”

Dao didn’t stir from his position, hands clasped behind him, back turned to the destruction raining down out the viewports.

He’d lost a lot of good men today.

He was about to lose a lot more.

But  _ maybe _ he could save some of those down on the planet.

“With regret, I report that my fleet will no longer be able to provide protection for the troops on Ryloth.”

He could hear the sounds of panic behind him, as men realized they were going to die. As they begged his attention, demanded orders, wanted to know what to  _ do. _

He felt for them. He did.

It burned his soul.

But he had faced death every day of his career, and if there was one thing he was  _ determined  _ to achieve, it was to not die a coward.

And to not waste precious moments.

The Recovery had a few seconds left. Nothing they did would change that fact.

But Di and the men with him  _ might  _ last.  _ If  _ the Council could be moved to send help.

His voice remained steady, quiet. Calm. “I repeat my request that help be sent right away.”  
He saw their eyes widen with shock as their gazes tracked behind him.

Dao didn’t turn.

He would hold this transmission until the fire or the vacuum claimed them.

If that didn’t impress upon the Council the desperation of the situation...

Nothing would.

The scream of the ship changed in pitch.

He was out of time.

“The shields are gone!” wailed an officer. “We have no—”

His voice was lost to flame and ice.

 

* * *

 

Now near the center of the village, organizing the evacuation, Ima-Gun felt the shudder through the Force as the six-thousand-member crew died.

A fire that for a moment eclipsed the sun burned bright in the morning sky, and then was gone.

“Sir!” Ned gasped. “Was that—?”

“Yes,” Ima-Gun murmured. “We’re alone now.” He sent the aspiring author as much of a smile as he could manage through the overwhelming weight of so many lives lost. “Make sure your readers feel what we feel now.”

Ned’s shaken horror turned to pained determination, and he sent his general a nod.

“Find Bandage. See what you can do to gather the wounded for retreat.” As soon as Ima-Gun turned away from the Droids’ Bane, he found a blurrg nose in his face.

Cham was back.

And looking even more intense than before.

“I saw your ship explode,” he growled without preamble. “Why is help not here yet? Doesn’t your Jedi Council care if you live or die?”  
Ima-Gun’s eyes crinkled in compassion. “The reason they sent me and the Three-Thirty-Seventh to assist you is because there was no one else close enough. That situation has not changed.”

“Surely they can do  _ something _ !”

“Have faith,” Ima-Gun advised. “I have no doubt they are doing what they can.”

Of course, that didn’t mean it would be  _ enough. _

He felt the pain of Dao’s loss twist through him.

He breathed in, breathed out.

It existed, it was here, and he had lives to save.

Keeli ran to them, and though the helmet hid his face, it couldn’t hide the tension in his posture. “General Di. The right flank has collapsed. The droids will be closing in on our position.”

“What about reinforcements?  _ Are _ they coming?” Cham demanded.

Ima-Gun had to turn his head to keep the Twi’lek in view as Cham directed his blurrg in a menacing circle around them. “The Republic will not abandon Ryloth.”  
_ This  _ one the politicians wouldn’t just write off as an  _ unfortunate loss. _

They  _ wanted  _ this one.

“I’ve had enough of your promises! If we stay here, we are all going to die. Gobi. Tell the people we are leaving.  _ Now. _ ”

“Yes, Sir.”

In the Force, Keeli looked like a grenade ready to go off. “I don’t think you understand,” he grit out. “The  _ right  _ flank has collapsed. There’s no leaving. We’re  _ stuck  _ here together.” He pulled off his helmet and glared at the Twi’lek.

Cham scowled back, but a flash of begrudging concession flickered in his eyes. He dismounted, and looked at Ima-Gun. “What options do we have?”

Ima-Gun called a broken stick to his hand with the Force, and drew a rough map in the dirt. “The tanks are gone. All we have for transport are the blurrgs and one gunship.”

Keeli’s comlink chimed, and he stepped away to answer without interrupting.

Ima-Gun stared down at the map, a tangle of emotions burning through him. The canyon walls were too steep, the passes too narrow...

Gobi shook his head. “There are not enough blurrgs for even half of us. That won’t give us speed, and we haven’t time to rig anything to carry the wounded with. I’m not sure the blurrgs would allow it even if we could.”

Keeli stepped back into the discussion.

“Captain, is the gunship ready?” Ima-Gun asked, his voice free of the dread building inside him.

“Yes, Sir, but it’s too small to evacuate the refugees.”

_ If we stuffed it to the bursting point it could only hold thirty. Maybe a few more, since children would take up less space. _

They didn’t have any supporting weaponry. Not in the air, and not on the ground. To place  _ anyone  _ in that ship would be to send them to slaughter.

And Cham saw it too, the anger in his face once again overwhelmed by alarm. “No escape? But our families are with us.”  
Ima-Gun felt the agony in his voice.

Sensed the life around them, the small suns that were children, and the slightly less bright adult life signatures around them. Even the blurrgs had an overall presence.

And he sensed the loyal, brave heartbeats of his men.

He knew what he must do.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

“How is the pain now?”

Harissa looked up into the Healer’s face, a numb buzzing having taken hold of her brain. “Fine, thanks.”

The pale-skinned woman smiled down at her. “Can you focus enough to slip into a healing trance, or shall I help?”

The woman felt vaguely familiar, but Harissa wasn’t sure why.

And she felt warm and sleepy enough that she  _ knew  _ she didn’t  _ care _ . “Help, please.”

It had been a long time since she had slept in a  _ bed _ , let alone one this  _ comfortable. _

Not to mention the added comfort that came from knowing there wouldn’t be an attack needing her attention in the middle of the night. Ever since Tontu, sleep had always had an edge for Harissa. She couldn’t completely relax.

She’d woken up to death in the camp before.

It could happen again.

But the Temple was as safe as it could get.

Maybe it was wrong to enjoy it, while her men were out there sleeping on the hard ground, but...

_I have Master’s orders, and he always guides me to live in the moment._

So she snuggled deeper into the white covers, and smiled as the Healer placed a hand on her forehead and nudged her into a healing sleep.

 

* * *

 

“If we reconfigure the fuel system, we can turn the ship into a bomb big enough to collapse the pass, here.” Ima-Gun, crouched by the dirt map, scratched a mark in the appropriate place. “The enemy will then only be able to engage us on one front, from this ravine.” Another set of marks.

Keeli, on one knee beside him, met his gaze as Ima-Gun glanced at him and stood up.

The glance alone warned Keeli.

“While we provide cover, the Twi’leks will have time to escape with the families over the mountain,” Ima-Gun said, voice quiet.

It felt like the air had been kicked from Keeli’s lungs.

He stood, gripping the helmet he held under his arm tight.

If this was it... he wanted to go out well.

So he met Ima-Gun’s understanding gaze, and said, as quietly and calmly as he could manage, “Brilliant strategy, General.” An unsteady breath escaped him, as he knew what came next. “I’ll go tell the men.”

He felt his Jedi’s eyes watching him as he walked away.

Tears burned Keeli’s own, but he refused to let them fall.

He gathered what brothers he could, knowing they would pass the message along.

“As I’m sure all of you are aware, our orbital support is gone. And there’s very little chance for reinforcements. The plan is we’re going to collapse the pass, regroup as the droids figure out the other attack point, and then hold them off long enough for the villagers to reach the other side of the mountain.”  
For a long moment, not one of them said a word.

And then Brains spoke up. “No one is going to pretend this is a battle we’ll be walking away from, right?”

“No. The General isn’t going to lie to you, and I won’t either.”

Again, with the silence.

“Alright,” Sketch spoke up, slapping his hands together. “Let’s go scare the kark out of some droids one last time.”

As the men scattered, Keeli felt his heart ache with pride.

Not one of his boys was going to face down death with anything less than courage.

 

* * *

 

“There is no shame in living for Jesp.”

Ced stood his ground, looking up into his general’s face. He hadn’t removed his helmet, but that couldn’t hide the grim determination that hung about him in the Force. “I won’t abandon the mission.”

“Ced, I am giving you permission to retreat with the villagers. Jesp expects you to return to her.”

“I appreciate it, Sir, I really do.” There was a thickness to the clone’s voice that revealed the weight of grief on his heart. “But this is where my brothers make their stand. And I’m not going to leave them. Or you.”  
Ima-Gun longed to argue with him, to try to  _ convince  _ him to go, to  _ live— _

But he  _ saw  _ it.

For a year and a half, he’d been investing in these men. Encouraging them to define their own lives. To choose their own destinies.

That’s what Ced was doing, here, now.

Looking at his options... and making his choice.

So Ima-Gun bowed his head in respect of Ced’s decision, and watched the clone stride away to join his brothers with a heavy heart.

Not one of the men who remained in the 337 th had made a move to leave.

Ima-Gun had felt the sweep of depression that had spread through the ranks like wildfire, and then watched in amazement as it gave way to a quiet normalcy.

The Kaminoans had trained them thoroughly.

They would fight... and they would die out there, on some field of battle.

They’d realized  _ this  _ was that field.

The first flare of rebellion quieted down into steady work.

Ima-Gun could sense fear, here and there, but the men kept busy.

_ There is no fear, there is only preparation,  _ he mused.

His men kept the goal firmly in sight.

Provide cover for the villagers.

It was a mission.

And his men always put the mission first.

It wasn’t an easy mission for Ima-Gun.

If he stood alone against the hordes, that would be one thing.

But he wanted these men to  _ live.  _ Wanted it desperately.

He wanted Ned to finish his chronicles. Wanted Ced to return to Jesp. Wanted Sketch to become a galactic dejarik champion.

He looked at the rebellion in his own heart, and accepted it.

It was there. It hurt. It burned like fire in his veins.

And he turned to Keeli as the man approached.

_ One more mission. _

_One more time._

“General. We are loading the rest of the explosives into the gunship.” From his tone, a casual observer would never guess he knew this was to be his final battle.

Ima-Gun gave him a nod. “Very good, Captain. Ready the men.”  
As Keeli gave the order, clones sprang into the final stages of action.

Ima-Gun shifted his attention to Gobi. The Twi’lek watched him with sad eyes.

“We won’t be able to hold off the droids for long,” Ima-Gun warned. “You’ll have to move quickly to get your families out of danger.”

Gobi sighed, looking ashamed. “Cham is still angry. He feels betrayed.”

“He counted on Republic assistance, and it didn’t come.” Ima-Gun’s gaze tracked to the angry man in question, as he readied the last of his people to flee. “War turns promises into hopes. I wish it wasn’t so. Tell him.” Ima-Gun extended his hand.

Gobi took it and gripped his upper arm with the other hand. “I will.”

Ima-Gun allowed Gobi’s comprehension of what they were about to sacrifice soothe his troubled spirit as he saw Cham glare hate and disdain his way.

_ Strange. Even dying for his people isn’t enough to convince him I mean them no harm. _

It stung, to be counted so worthless.

To know his men were counted as worthless.

He felt a gaze burning into him.

Not Cham’s.

He searched the convoy with his eyes as it snaked its way out of the village, and located the source.

Cham’s little daughter.

She knew.

She might be young, but she knew he was going to die, and knew it was to protect them.

His heart went out to her. A child who shouldn’t have to bear such a weight.

He gave her a smile.

Silently let her know that he didn’t resent it.

Not the coming battle.

Not her father’s ingratitude.

_ You alone would be worth it, little one. Live. Love. And perhaps you will remember Jedi and clone kindly when others might not. _

 

* * *

 

“This is Command,” Keeli’s voice came through the comlink. “Are all the charges in place?”

Threetu glanced up at Singe as his brother set a few more, just for good measure. “Copy that. We’re all ready. The droid army is closing.”

“As soon as they are in range, blow up the gunship.”

Singe patted him on the back and gave him a thumbs-up.

They retreated to the tree-cover to find Target staring glumly at the ship. “It’s strange,” he mused. “Knowing I’ll never fly again.”

Singe held out the detonator, but Target waved it away.

“I don’t have the heart to watch her go.”

That baffled Threetu. “You didn’t have it for very long.  _ Kenobi  _ left it behind.”

“Didn’t even have time to paint her yet,” Target sighed. “I’m going to head back to the line. See you there.”

As Target walked away, shoulders hunched, Threetu turned to his squad brother. “Mind if I do it?”

“Be my guest.”  
With the detonator in hand, Threetu watched the ship through a pair of electrobinoculars. He waited... waited...

The droids drew closer...

Sent a couple ahead to investigate the gunship...

“Gotcha,” he muttered, pressing the button.

Singe’s masterpiece did its work, not only obliterating the first row of droids, but weakening the stone formations that rose to either side of the pass. Humongous boulders crashed to the ground, sending a jolt that Threetu felt through his boots.

“Biggest thing I’ve ever taken out,” Singe murmured, sounding just a little pleased. “Appropriate finale, I suppose.”

“I guess it’s time to prepare for the encore, then.”

 

* * *

Keeli listened as Ima-Gun gave last-minute instructions to the men while he headed for the front of the defense.

Pride lashed at the cold that wanted to take possession of his soul.

Even here, at the end, Ima-Gun placed himself between death and his men.

The steady tromp of droid feet, such a familiar sound, carried a dread Keeli had never experienced before.

It was one thing to wonder if you might die.

Another to  _ know  _ you would.

He glanced around at his brothers, who had strategically placed themselves to take advantage of whatever cover they could find.

Good men. About to die in the politicians’ pointless games.

As if he’d read his Captain’s mind, and maybe he  _ had,  _ Ima-Gun called out, “For the  _ Republic _ ! For the  _ Twi’leks _ !”

Keeli lifted his chin, hauled his pistols out of their holsters, and glared defiance at the metal horde.

A standing Republic meant the brothers who  _ weren’t _ dying here had a chance of not dying in combat. And innocent civilians...

Well...

The fire that flooded Keeli’s system was very different than it had been a moment ago.

A flare of affection surged through him as he took out his first droid.

He was more than willing to follow his general into hell.

_ Lead on, and I’ll follow. _

Droids would whisper tales of the 337 th in the dark, shuddering in terror by the time he and his brothers were done.  _ We’ll be the monsters under the bed. _

_ And just maybe we’ll figure out a way to haunt some of those karkhole politicians too. _

Wouldn’t that be something.

 

* * *

 

Ced saw Kenn fall, but had no time to grieve.

Blinder took shot after shot, every single one a kill. Mimic suspected he was rapidly leaving his former record in the dust.

Too bad no-one would be left to recount the tale.

Newboy fought as hard and as bravely as if he’d been a member of the squad his whole life.

“So glad Mom isn’t here,” Threetu muttered to himself.

Singe didn’t look over at him, just kept firing away. “Agreed.”

 

* * *

 

It didn’t take the droids long to discover the make-shift medical area. The men who could still pull a trigger fought with a fierce determination to make their killers hurt.

Bandage strode out to meet the droids, a glint in his eye that made the first battle droid waver. “You seem undamaged,” Bandage observed, voice kind. And then all mercy fled from his eyes, making them look like black holes, and his voice turned vicious. “Let’s have a look at that.”

 

* * *

 

Ima-Gun felt more than saw Level go down.

Brains.

Sketch fought like a man possessed, heaping piles of the destroyed around him.

Ima-Gun had been wondering what he would tell the Council about Harissa... and worse, what to tell  _ her. _

That was irrelevant now.

It had been taken out of his hands.

She would need to find her own path.

He had no doubt she could, no matter what forces might align against her.

The battle twisted, stretched—

When Ima-Gun sensed the danger to his captain, he was too far away to prevent the explosion.

Fear tore at his heart and he raced forward. When he reached Keeli’s side, he threw the entire front line of droids back with the Force.

He wanted time to see to Keeli.

It didn’t give him a chance to more than glance at him before he was fighting for his life again.

He clenched his fist, grit his teeth, and accepted the pain.

Droid after droid...

On and on they came.

He had killed a hundred, he had killed a thousand? Numbers ceased to retain any meaning, swaying in strange directions as Ima-Gun found himself tiring.

A momentary gap gave him a chance try to catch his breath.

The utter silence was the worst part.

He couldn’t sense a single life-form left in this canyon.

The 337 th was no more.

And now he stood alone.

Grateful,  _ so  _ grateful that Harissa wasn’t here.

_ At least this one had nothing to do with you,  _ he thought.  _ No amount of clarity could save me from this. _

He watched the droids close in around him.

This was it.

 

* * *

 

Keeli first became aware of the smoke burning his eyes. Then the tightness in his ribs.

He wasn’t sure where his helmet had gone, and he wasn’t about to go searching for it.

Shrapnel stuck in the exposed areas of body-glove rubbed against the edges of his armor as he moved...

But that was irrelevant.

His general stood staring down the barrel of a droid’s blaster.

Keeli took it out.

He saw the way Ima-Gun’s entire affect lightened. “Captain Keeli.”

“I’m not finished yet, Sir,” Keeli called back, moving forward as Ima-Gun retreated towards him.

Here, at the end...

_ The two of us. _

The way Keeli saw it, it would be a good death. The  _ only  _ good death for a clone.

_ A captain goes down with his Jedi. _

They had one last mission.

Buy the Twi’leks time.

“We can  _ do  _ this, General.” His eyes narrowed to murderous slits as he placed his back against Ima-Gun’s.

“Well,” his Jedi called back, the defeat gone from both voice and posture, and a fierce lethality taking their place. “Let’s make the end memorable.”

Keeli felt the first blaster bolt that struck him.

He didn’t feel the second.

 

* * *

 

Keeli fell again.

He wouldn’t be getting up this time.

It hurt to lose Keeli. _ Bad. _

But it hurt  _ less  _ this time, knowing he would follow soon.

His strength was almost spent.

There wasn’t a long, lonely battle stretched ahead of him anymore.

He took a bolt in the gut.

Grunting against the pain, he deflected several more shots.

His comlink signaled.

“This is Republic blockade runner oh-niner-niner. We have broken through.”

Help at last. Ima-Gun saw the ships low overhead, the rumble of their engines a beautiful song against the harsh sounds of the droids encircling him.

He looked one in the eye, a defiant glitter in his own. “The Twi’leks will live to fight another day.”

With a roar of triumph he fell upon them.

It took four more hits to bring him down.

He struck the ground hard, his lightsaber slipping from his hand.

He embraced the pain. Embraced the ferocious victory.

Death was another experience.

And he experienced it to the full.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

A horrible burning sensation in her gut tore Harissa from her trance.

She bolted upright in bed, biting back a gasp of pain.

A thought pierced the fog of her mind.

The wound wasn ’t her own.

“ _ No _ !” she screamed, lunging out of bed and collapsing to the floor as her leg refused to bear her weight. “ _ No _ !”

A young man with green skin dove through the door and crouched beside her. “Master Barssand!  _ Master _ , come quick!”

More pain exploded through her body.

His pain.

And then the gentle pressure in the back of her mind that no matter  _ where she went  _ was always there, like a hand on her shoulder...

Was gone.

A cold breeze blowing through a broken window into the shards of her soul.

The Healer from before was reaching out for her, was asking something.

The Mirialan padawan helped lift her back into the bed.

None of it mattered.

None.

 

* * *

 

Aiden glanced through the daily reports, not intending to read anything  _ through— _

Ryloth. There was a Ryloth update.

But not from Ima-Gun’s command.

Puzzled, Aiden selected it and inspected.

It was written by reinforcements—  _ good,  _ they’d finally  _ sent  _ some—

And then he clutched the datapad so tight the screen cracked with the weight of the Force that curled around his fingers.

His next appointment walked in, seeking healing for the mind and heart—

And was completely caught off guard by their Mind Healer dropping his head to his desk, overwhelmed by anguished, silent tears.

“ _ Go, _ ” he choked, pointing at the door. “Just  _ go _ .”

They obeyed.

He tapped at his comlink with shaking fingers.

He had a duty.

Swallowing his agony and gritting his teeth, he called their Clan Mother. “Master Venley. Gun is dead.”

He heard the sharp hiss of air as the old woman took the blow.

He didn’t receive any words of comfort from her, and he didn’t expect them.

She would be experiencing too much pain to manage at the moment.

The next attempt gave him a young female voice. “Dalina. Is Upesh there?”

“He’s piloting.”

“Give him the comlink, Dalina.”  
She apparently recognized the gravity in his voice, because in a moment Upesh answered.

“Gun is dead,” he repeated, those same three words all he could manage on the subject. “Make sure the rest of the clan knows.”

Upesh had an outflow of things to say. He always did.

Aiden had no use for it at the moment.

He had one last call he had to make.

So he cut the connection and made that next one.

Ima-Gun’s former master.

And once that was done, then Aiden could give himself over to the grief that wanted to consume him.

 

* * *

 

“Padawan Nol? Please sit up for me.”

Harissa felt gentle hands on her shoulder and elbow, guiding her upright.

“Excellent. Now look straight ahead. I’m going to shine a light in your eyes. Just keep watching the wall.”  
The vague irritant made her squint.

“Eyes open, please?”  
She obeyed, wondering how long she’d been stuck here. She dimly remembered the sting of something being sent into her bloodstream, sudden loss of control over her own flailing limbs... and then her Healer’s face as she was put under again.

She’d had  _ hope. _

She’d thought she could  _ escape  _ her nightmare.

_ I was practically asking for this. _

“I am Padawan Lisk Pollid. Can you tell me what species you are?”

“Human.”  
That sparked off an endless list of questions.

What year is it?

Who is Chancellor?

Who was the prior Chancellor?  
Can you tell me your name?

It was a similar set of questions she’d heard Bandage ask men who’d hit their heads.

_ I didn’t hit my head. _

Apparently they were concerned anyway.

“Can you tell me what species I am?”  
Harissa squinted at him, taking the effort to actually  _ look  _ at him this time.

Green skin, black hair, shocking-blue eyes, geometric tattoos along his jaw—

“Mirialan,” she mumbled.

He still watched her with concern. “And can you remember my name?”

_ Your name is meaningless. _

Why would she care about something so...  _ trivial...  _ when...

_ They won’t release you until you prove you’re alright,  _ she reminded herself.

She  _ wasn’t  _ alright, and wasn’t sure she cared  _ where  _ they kept her.

But...

She thought about it for a moment. “Lisk Pollid. Padawan.”

“Very good. Today’s date is on the datapad beside your bed; feel free to see how long you’ve been out once you feel up to it. Your leg is healed enough to walk, just take it slow for a few days, and come back in a week so we can make sure it’s progressing well. The date and time of the appointment is also on your datapad, along with my master’s name.”

“You’re  _ her  _ padawan, then?” Harissa rubbed at her aching forehead.

“That’s right.”  
“I need news. My battalion? Ryloth. How is—”

The professional affect melted into worry. “I’m not qualified to provide that—”

“Just  _ tell  _ me how bad it was,” Harissa interrupted. “Either that, or let me go.”  
He frowned. “I  _ am  _ letting you go. This was—” he snuck a glance at something written on his arm. “Yeah. Two more things. I’m supposed to ask. If you want me to schedule an appointment with a Mind Healer—”

“No.”

The Mirialan blinked. “Are you sure?”

“ _ Yes,  _ I’m  _ sure _ , now finish your list? What was the last thing?”  
A dull blush spread across his cheeks, and he angled his arm to hide the writing on it from view. “Did you want to take painkillers with you? The wound might be sore once you jostle it. You’d take them before bed to help you sleep—”

“No.” Harissa pulled herself out of the bed, ignoring the hands he extended to help steady her.

“Are you  _ sure  _ you don’t want to take it slow?”

She glared at him and located her boots.

“This is going spectacularly,” she heard her Healer grumble. “ _ You’ll do just fine, Lisk.  _ Yeah. Right.”

_Probably his first time dismissing a patient without his master looking over his shoulder._ _I probably could have been nicer to him._

But none of that really mattered in the face of the obvious.

The empty place in her mind felt like a lost tooth. It was impossible to leave the gap alone. Unintentionally inspecting it, always running into it—

She drove her feet into her boots, desperate to keep moving.

With their general gone, her boys were going to need her.

She’d reached the door when the Healer-in-training spoke up one last time. “For what it’s worth... I’m sorry.”  
Harissa’s throat closed and she couldn’t breathe. For a long moment she stood in the doorway, struggling for composure, unwilling to walk into a hallway with people who could see her tears, and even more unwilling to turn around and let this young man see them either.

_You don’t understand._

_No one can._

Gritting her teeth, she left without a backwards glance.

She heard a quiet curse, and then the Mirialan intercepted her, standing in her way. “You deserve to find out without having... other people around. Come back in. For just a minute.”  
“Thought you weren’t qualified.”

“I’m  _ not,  _ but if you’re headed for the nearest terminal to find the mission reports—”

“I  _ am. _ ”

“How about you do that after you hear the basics?”

Harissa glared at him. It was scowl or cry. “I’m  _ aware  _ my master is dead.”

The twitching in his fingers stilled, and he started tapping his elbow with his opposite hand. “There’s more.”  
Harissa went very still.

A green hand caught her upper arm and steered her back into the room.

And then it shut the door.

 

* * *

 

“Master Drossmark. On my way to see Harissa Nol, I am.”  
Aiden winced.

He’d hoped to pass Master Yoda in the hall, unnoticed—

That was too much to ask, apparently.

“Help her, will you?”

Aiden squinted down at the diminutive Jedi. “Don’t you think I’m a bit too close to the... subject matter... to be of  _ assistance _ ?”  
“Help her, it would. And help  _ you. _ ”

“I’m sorry, Master.” Aiden shook his head. “I’m taking time off.”  
Yoda watched him with solemn eyes. “Sudden, this decision is.”

“I have declined leave since the war began. I haven’t once failed to be there when needed. I’ve worn myself out and I’m unfit to serve. I need a little time to adjust.”

“True, your words are. Begrudge you this, the Council will not.” Yoda tapped Aiden’s foot with his gimer stick. “Concerned this vacation you plan will not be one of rest,  _ I  _ am.”

“I promise I will apply myself when I return,” Aiden evaded.

Yoda sighed. “Stand in your way, I will not.”

Aiden gave him a silent bow in thanks and sped down the hall.

“But remember, you should, that yours alone, this wound is not.” Yoda’s voice carried down to him.

_ Right,  _ Aiden sneered.  _ I’m sure the child who knew him for a few months is  _ just  _ as heartbroken as I am. _

The child who killed him.

_ You probably want me to complete her training too. _

That was fine. Yoda could want that.

_ We all want things we can’t have. _

Two turns and a staircase later, he strode into the outfitting room.

_ I won’t set foot in this Temple again until I _ know _ what is wrong with Harissa Nol. _

 

* * *

 

Harissa dimly realized the Healer had walked her back to her personal quarters.

All she could focus on was the datapad clutched in her hands.

The one he’d transferred the mission reports to.

She would read them, once she could see straight.

She located her door and stared at the burgundy symbol.

The insignia of the Jedi Order back in the days of the Old Republic.

The last time she’d stood in her room, she’d felt hopeless, alone, and dreading what the day would hold.

Apparently, this time would be similar...

Only worse. Because now she’d had a taste of what other padawans experienced all the time.

“Are you safe?” the Mirialan asked.

What a strange question to ask. She sent him a look, noticed he was fidgeting again. No,  _ still.  _ He hadn’t stopped moving once.

“Yeah. I just have to think a little,” Harissa somehow managed to spit out.

He watched her, compassion in his blue eyes. “Should I send anybody up?”

“Who?” Harissa snapped back. “Like a Mind Healer?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about, they can  _ help— _ ”

“I have no doubt it was in my file just how  _ many  _ I’ve seen in my time. Sure looks like I’ve been helped.”

His restlessness grew worse. “I wasn’t actually talking about a Mind Healer,” he murmured, gaze shifting away from her challenging glare. “I meant a friend.”

“I don’t have friends.” She keyed the door open, stepped aside, and tossed back, “Thanks, though,” and shut the door in his face.

The silence fell about her like the hush of a tomb.

Same bed, with the covers pulled tight and smooth.

Same meditation pad.

Same  _ everything. _

Same nothing.

She looked down at the collection in her arms. She wore a light gown, and knew someone had bothered to wash her hair in the time she’d been out. The burned scent of battle was missing.

She had her clothes, her lightsaber, the datapad...

Her satchel of belongings would be back on Ryloth. In the camp that had been sacked and burned.

She dropped the other things onto the mat and sank to the bed.

That’s when her eyes caught sight of the pile of white by the door.

The air left her lungs in a rush, and pain so fierce it made her clutch at her head stormed through her soul. She found fuzz under one hand.

The Healers hadn’t kept it shaved.

Though she knew they couldn’t, it felt like the tattoos in her scalp were burning her hand.

Tattoos similar to those of so many of the men. Swirls and dots made of the same color, shining pale against her skin the way they shone dark against theirs.

Dead men.

She sprang up from the bed, launching herself for the door.

_ They can’t be _ all  _ gone. Somebody had to get out. It’s statistically ridiculous to think they’re  _ all  _ gone. _

She passed several Jedi in the halls, Jedi who remained blissfully unaware of her loss.

Thank the Force for small favors.

The last thing she needed was to see an expression of sympathy.

She searched the shelves until she found Defo, happily reshelving.

He looked up, hearing her footsteps, and pallor spread across his face.

“You’ve got to help me,” Harissa said, knowing she sounded too optimistic, her eyes a little too bright, her hair too disheveled.

_ And  _ she was still in her Halls of Healing garb.

“You read the report,” Harissa asserted.

He nodded, his forehead furrowed with a protracted wince.

“No massacre claims  _ everyone. _ ” Harissa waved her hand. “That’s ridiculous. It’s impossible to prevent  _ everyone  _ from running away. No net is  _ that  _ good— not against  _ my men— _ ”

The wince deepened.

“So you have to help me find the survivors. They need me. They—”

Defo pulled himself to his feet and stared up at her with compassion-flooded eyes. “Harissa...”  
“No. Don’t you  _ dare  _ tell me not to get my hopes up. I  _ know  _ what’s at stake, here. I  _ know  _ those men. Things were bad on Ryloth, but they weren’t  _ that  _ bad—”

“You’re right. I  _ did  _ read the report.” She couldn’t  _ stand  _ the look in his eyes— “Did you?”

She struggled to keep her voice light. “No. There was no point—”

“The Sergeant in charge communicated with the Twi’lek leadership—”

“Who?  _ Cham _ ? Like he  _ wouldn’t  _ lie—”

“No. A man named Gobi Glee.”

A shudder ran down Harissa’s back, but she couldn’t give in to it, couldn’t let this be  _ real.  _ She’d lost her  _ master.  _ Wasn’t that  _ enough _ ?

“And they also flew low over the battlefield after dropping off supplies. The holos are... They’re with the report.”

“I will  _ not  _ just give up on them _ —  _ how can you just  _ give up  _ on them—?”

Defo just shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“ _ No.  _ Don’t be  _ sorry.  _ Find me a  _ survivor— _ ”

“She’s standing right here.”

A strange sound vibrated through her throat. “Defo,  _ please. _ ”

“They saved the villagers,” Defo offered, attempting a smile and failing.

That was something that would have comforted her boys.

_ Not  _ the only person left behind.

“I should have been with them. I messed up, I made a mistake, and I ended up  _ here.  _ I should have been  _ with them. _ ”

“And died with them?” Defo demanded, wide-eyed. “ _ Harissa— _ ”

She turned away to retreat to her own room, but the time it would take to get there—

And the thought of confronting that armor again—

And, just as bad, the  _ clothes  _ the New Draxans had made for her, with a pattern in the weave that matched her master’s—

Harissa sank to her knees, remembering the burn of pain not her own.

Thought of it multiplied exponentially, happening to clone after clone...

Their names running through her mind, their faces not far behind.

She lowered her head and sobbed.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Harissa endured the  _ not-funeral. _

They didn’t have a body.

They didn’t even have Ima-Gun’s lightsaber.

And he hadn’t been given a burial or pyre on Ryloth, either. The droids had firm control over the area, and the lives and resources couldn’t be spent in trying to recover the dead. Not when the living still suffered so much.

_ He’s just lying out there, food for the scavengers. _

_They all are._

The Memory Garden had another holographic statue. Another plaque for visitors to read.

Another broken heart to come and grieve.

Yoda said a few words.

Harissa didn’t hear them.

People were here she didn’t know, people who gripped her shoulder and told her they were sorry.

People who had meant something to Ima-Gun.

People she hadn’t had the chance to meet.

Defo came.

She felt grateful for that. More grateful than when two of her Clan mates showed up.

Even as she escaped the room teeming with life that held blue images of death, she answered her comlink.

She almost said, “Commander Nol,” but remembered in time.

“Harissa. It’s Onna. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the Garden. I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you.”

“Thanks,” Harissa murmured.  _ Better get off the link with me, because you’re the only one who hasn’t died yet. _

The link ended and Harissa was left standing in her room alone.

In the silence, she became aware of the light rub of sleeves against her skin.

She hadn’t been able to attend the Memory Garden gathering in her Halls of Healing robe, so she’d mindlessly thrown on her own clothes.

Now, she could no longer ignore it.

The fabric, created by loving New Draxan hands. The cut of the outfit similar to the one they had made for her Master, but with just a hint of the flavor of the 337 th ’s fashion sense.

The patterns built into the weave, matching those wrapped around her dead Master’s bolt-riddled body.

The sturdy weft, once a comfort against her skin, repelled her now. She had to escape it or scream.

She fled her room once more, headed for the giant cloth hall. She sorted through bolts of fabric, finding varying beiges to suit her purpose. She avoided darker browns like a plague.

Fortunately, this part of the Temple lay deserted.

Patterns and cutting and sewing—

Harissa worked at it rabidly, refusing to quit until she had two full sets of clothes to replace those eaten by New Draxan rain.

And then she was headed up the stairs again, to hide her shed New Draxan garb in the chest in her room. She stacked the armor pieces in after and shut the lid.

For a brief moment she felt the relief of no longer having to  _ see  _ any of it.

But it wasn’t enough. The pain and  _ aloneness _ licked at her heels, refusing to leave her be—

So she hastened down to the outfitting halls to return her mission gadgets.

Thankfully, Temma wasn’t present, so she didn’t have to  _ talk. _

And then she was summoned.

Not to the Council to give her report...

But to a mandatory appointment with a Mind Healer.

She listened to the lady. Some of the time, anyway.

The woman wanted her to talk, but Harissa had nothing to offer.

Nothing but a warning.

 

* * *

 

“Master Yoda. Thank you for taking my call.”  
“Important, it sounded.”

“I think so, yes.” Anessa nodded her head. “I do not believe I will be able to help Padawan Nol. In fact, I do not believe that any Jedi Mind Healers will.”

“Strong words, those are.”

“I believe they are necessary. Padawan Nol has had extensive treatments with us in the past. She may be new to me personally, but I have spoken with her previous therapists, and they agree with me.”

“A solution, you have?”

“I would like to send her to someone who is not Force sensitive, Master.”

Yoda tilted his head, his ears lifting. “Why?”  
“She told me that if she lets me get too close, I will die. At the moment, she is very afraid of adult Jedi. She may be more willing to allow someone outside the Order to help her, and I want to see this child helped as soon as possible.”

Yoda smiled. “Granted, permission is. Choose wisely, I trust you will.”

“You have my word, Master.”

 

* * *

 

Harissa managed to hold it together all the way until she readied herself for bed and faced a mirror.

And found herself confronted by beads.

Moments later, she leaned heavily over the chest in her room, fingers scrabbling to take the braid out. Strands of hair tearing, tears blinding her, hardly able to breathe—

The beads clattered one at a time against the armor, rolling to rest scattered amongst the folds of fabric.

This was just—  _ too much— _

She slammed the lid shut, but it couldn't block out the pain. The throbbing in her heart finding echoes in her scalp—

The room seemed to be closing in on her, wanting to crush her.

The silence  _ too heavy— _

Harissa snatched the blanket from her bed, dashed her tears away, and surged out and down the halls.

It was dark in the Youngling areas of the Temple, the floor lit only by dim runner lights.

Harissa found the younglings of Clans Anooba and Reek to be sound asleep, and their Clan Mothers too.

So she wrapped herself in her blanket, slipped into the storage room, and lay down on the floor.

The carpet was soft against her body, so much more comfortable than so many of the nights she'd spent on either New Draxis or Ryloth...

She closed her eyes and tried to pretend her time with Ima-Gun had never taken place.

_ I’m just a lonely, afraid, Masterless Padawan. Old pains. They’re old pains. Keren and Kiplec were kind to me  _ today,  _ and I stayed to help. Everything that came “after” that was a bad dream. I just need to fall back to sleep. _

She reached out, carefully, trying not to disturb the sleepers...

Found the little fires in the Force in their cribs.

Found the calm, nurturing presences belonging to the Clan Mothers.

Familiar.

Safe.

They weren’t responsible for her, so they weren’t in harm’s way.

Exhaustion claimed her, along with the persistent ache in her thigh.

She probably hadn’t been as gentle with it as the Mirialan boy had intended, but...

_ I’ve caused so much pain. What does it say about me if I can’t endure a little in turn? _

 

* * *

 

She didn’t awake suddenly.

It was a slow, gentle surfacing, the timer-controlled lights starting very dim, and gradually brightening, the speed of a sunrise.

Quiet movement in another room added to the light, and for several long moments Harissa simply let herself drift on the quiet comfort of the Force in this place.

And then she became aware of the fact that she had a second blanket draped over her, tucked in under her feet.

That brought her fully awake.

She stumbled to the door and looked blearily out.

She found Kiplec pulling dishes of something that smelled spectacular out of a basket and setting them on the small table.

Harissa’s throat closed.

“How are you feeling?”

Harissa turned, found Keren watching her.

“I— don’t know.”

He nodded his horned head and gently drew her towards breakfast.

Kiplec sent her a gentle smile and greeting, and for the first half of a standard hour, Harissa felt on edge, waiting for one or the other to ask her about what had happened since they saw her last.

But the question never came.

They spoke of the kitchen, the cooks, and the children. On and on until Harissa found herself almost smiling at some of the accounts of Jax’s exploits.

It could only mean they knew.

Harissa couldn’t decide if it was terrible that behind all the quiet happiness of their words, they could see the young woman who had once again lost everything...

Or if it was a relief that she wouldn’t be asked  _ what happened. _

_ The Mind Healer wants me to talk. The Council will want a debrief. _

No one was willing to give her space.

_ But maybe these two will. After all... one of them apparently tucked me in last night. _

That made her think of Berri Li, and a planet under the droid army’s heel.

_ I cannot bring back Master Di, or the men. _

They would send somebody else to Ryloth, and the grind to gain control over the planet would continue.

_ But what about New Draxis? _

_ I know the land. I know the people. I know space in that system. _

The inevitable Council meeting suddenly shifted from the most dreaded event in her foreseeable future, to something to plan for.

She couldn’t save her men or her master.

But she’d sure as  _ Kessel  _ save New Draxis.

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean,  _ no _ ?”

The Council members went very still and simply watched her.

“We cannot spare the resources and lives needed for such a project,” Mace Windu said, enunciating carefully, as if she might not have heard him the first time.

She glared at him. “I  _ checked  _ to see what reports are coming from that sector. I have them  _ right here. _ ” She held up her datapad. “The droids are stripping the mines, and if it keeps up, their economy will completely collapse. And if  _ that  _ goes down, the neighboring systems that share the seat in the Senate will  _ also  _ fail. The death toll has been large, and the droids continue to terrorize the inhabitants of New Draxis, even though the mines are off-world—”

“Aware of this, we are,” Yoda said, his voice quiet, “but help them we cannot.”  
Sure.

Intellectually, she’d known her request to be far-fetched.

Yes.

There were many people dying on New Draxis and its surrounding planets.

No.

They weren’t falling in droves, like they were on many other planets.

With their Order and the army spread so thin, they  _ had  _ to try to save as many lives as they could.

_ Triage. _

She  _ hated  _ triage.

“I understand, Master,” she murmured, schooling her features into compliance, and bowing her head in respect. “We can’t save everyone.”  
She felt the wave of sadness that passed around the Council at her words.

_ And like my master, they wish they could. _

_We all do._

“Masters, I would like to request permission to go to New Draxis myself. Not taking a battalion or other Jedi away from anything else. Chopper can take me— the clone who returned me here. That way I’m not entirely alone.”

For a moment they stared at her in astonishment.

“The individual you speak of has already rejoined Kenobi and the Two-Twelfth,” Kit Fisto spoke up, breaking the silence.

Dismay flooded Harissa.

Her one last link to the 337 th , and she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye?

Eeth Koth’s eyes shone with compassion, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “He did go to see you in the Halls of Healing before he left, but you were still unconscious at the time.”

Harissa gave him a nod to thank him for telling her.

_ It’s more of a goodbye than I had with the others. _

And after so  _ much  _ loss...

Surely she could take one more.

“Then I’ll fly myself,” she concluded. “I could take the shuttle I arrived in. It’s the last of the Three-Thirty-Seventh’s equipment, so I won’t be taking resources away from someone else; and I won’t need more than the ship.”

Again, that painful stillness.

The Masters looked to one another, their expressions guarded, but their eyes speaking volumes.

Concern.

Most of it was concern.

This time, it was Shaak Ti who broke the silence. “The Minder you are working with does not believe that you should be given extended field work right now. Did she not say as much when you saw her yesterday?”

“Master, with all due respect, she isn’t a Jedi. She’s not even a soldier. I don’t think she’s qualified to—” She faltered as she saw the concern around the circle deepen.

“You believe she is not worth listening to because she cannot use the Force?” Adi Gallia asked, seeking clarification, clearly not wanting to assume the worst—

_ That was a mistake to say. _

“What I am trying to say, Master, is that the New Draxans need someone. I’m available. Jedi go where they are needed. We put others first.”

Mace Windu did not look convinced. “As I understand it, most of the deaths occur where the locals fight back against the droids. The blaster bolts cause the tibanna-substitute to combust—”

“Nelkite,” Harissa interrupted. “It’s called Nelkite. And it’s not  _ just  _ a tibanna substitute, but also has medicinal and recreational uses. Also, your statement only holds true for the facilities mining and processing the Nelkite in its gas form— which is found only on the gas giants. That includes all of the planets in the New Draxis system,  _ except  _ New Draxis itself. The deaths on New Draxis will have nothing to do with Nelkite residue in the air purification system.”

Windu raised an eyebrow at her, his expression not softening. “True as that may be, it’s mostly those who are fighting back who are dying. If you return and stir them up, how is that going to solve the problem? More civilians,  _ not soldiers, _ inspired to desperate acts of what they think is heroism, only to die as their livelihood catches fire and burns them alive? I can see how you would hate to follow a course of action that could be perceived as  _ giving up _ , Padawan, but I somehow doubt that your determination to return is about  _ them,  _ and  _ not  _ yourself.”

“I can refocus.  _ Make  _ it about them—”

“No.” Now it was Windu interrupting  _ her. _ “You do not have permission to return to New Draxis.”

Harissa glanced around the room, searching for someone,  _ anyone,  _ with  _ any  _ sign that they disagreed—

But no. They all watched her, sober and in one accord.

Fury rose inside her soul, burning like the fire of her lightsaber. “I can’t believe you can all  _ sit  _ here and tell me that people will  _ die,  _ and that you aren’t going to do anything about it! You’re no better than the politicians in the Senate!”

“You are  _ dismissed,  _ Padawan Nol.” Windu’s voice was cold, and Harissa was horrified to feel tears stinging her eyes.

She needed to make her escape.

_ Now. _

She stormed out, hoping none of them could sense her anguish, and knowing that hope to be dead before it was born.

Like so many of her hopes.

 

* * *

 

Silent eyes sought out Yoda’s face as the door slid shut behind Harissa.

The old one sighed, feeling the weight of all the tragedy he had witnessed in his lifetime. “Much pain, she suffers,” he murmured, his eyes filling with sadness. “Much pain.”

Yoda sensed the compassion Mace experienced in response to his words, and even saw it in the face of the human, a man most people couldn’t read at all.

_ Uncaring and cold, they think him. _

_ Uncaring and cold, they think  _ me.

He sighed again, so weary, and felt the concern of his fellow Council members now aimed for  _ him. _

He harrumphed, just slightly.

They tried to pamper him like a worn-out oldster.

_ Worn out, see who is, hmm? _

_Not me, I think!_

Arrogant youngsters.

 

* * *

 

Harissa let out a yell of frustration and punched her pillow.

It didn’t help.

At  _ all. _

Her comlink chirped, and for a moment she considered ignoring it.

She brushed the thought aside and answered.

“There is a Senator Organa here, requesting to see you.”

Harissa stared at the droid in disbelief. “ _ What _ ?”

“There is a Senator Organa here, requesting to see you. What would you like me to tell him?”

“Uh— I’ll be down in a minute. What room is he in?”

A quick glance in a mirror, a handful of water splashed across her face, and a swift straightening of robes later, Harissa raced to the specified meeting place.

Before the door, she took one last breath, patted her hair to make sure it was in place, and stepped inside.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

The man was tall.  _ Very  _ tall.

He looked up as she entered, a grim expression on his face.

“Senator. You requested to see me?” Harissa asked, in her best formal tone, wondering what he could  _ possibly  _ want with her.

And an even better question...

How could he even know of her  _ existence _ ?

“You were the padawan of the late Ima-Gun Di, correct?”

Harissa stiffened, her expression faltering before she managed to clamp it into an unreadable mask. “Yes.”

“Please accept my condolences.”

“Thank you. It’s very kind.”  _ He’s one of the good ones _ , she reminded herself.  _ Be polite. Be very polite. No matter what he says. _

“I was grieved to hear about what happened on Ryloth. I feel I owe you an apology.”

Harissa squinted in confusion. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Members of your Council contacted me and requested I negotiate with a neutral system to allow immediate relief supplies to reach Ryloth, since no one else was close enough.”

“Reinforcements?” Harissa asked, her voice sounding empty in her ears. “Ammunition?”

Organa shook his head. “No. Food. Medical supplies.”

“We did need those. Yes.”  
“While I was ultimately successful and the provisions were delivered... I later learned it was too late for your master.”  
Harissa tried to swallow her grief, blinking rapidly. She couldn’t trust herself to speak.

“I am sorry I was not swift enough. I know there is nothing I can do to ease your loss, but if there is ever an opportunity where I can possibly prevent further tragedy, you have but to contact me, and I will help however I can.”

_ He  _ is  _ one of the good ones,  _ Harissa realized.  _ He doesn’t see us as numbers. _

She gave him a solemn bow of acknowledgment. “Thank you, Senator. Perhaps it will ease your mind to know that food and bandages would not have changed the outcome of the battle, according to the reports I’ve read. Fuel and ammunition were exhausted, and so were the men. The droids vastly outnumbered them. It was a battle they couldn’t win, and they had to have known that going in.”

The lines around Organa’s eyes tightened.

She could tell he wanted to say more, but watched as he decided that nothing he could offer would be of any help. He gave her a bow, a murmured farewell, and strode away.

It had been one thing to read reports from men she intellectually knew had dropped off relief supplies. Another to hear from a man who had clearly fought hard for her master’s life in his own arena.

Words.

_ But he failed. And I failed to be by Master Di’s side. _

And so, instead of lying there with the others, a corpse alongside so many, she had to  _ live. _

_ And _ be condemned to inaction, apparently.

New Draxis had been abandoned all over again...

Because of a Minder who had no right to interfere.

_ Why did my Mind Healer send me to  _ her  _ anyway? I was polite, I think. Not  _ very  _ rude, anyway. _

She wasn’t sure she believed what the Jedi Minder had said about it.

_ “I want you to have the very best; and I don’t think that in this case that’s me.” _

Well.

At least she wouldn’t be dying for Harissa.

_ Thank the Force for small blessings,  _ she thought bitterly, a sneer marring her face as she headed for her room for the millionth time since being freed from the Halls of Healing.

 

* * *

 

A month dragged by.

She kept herself busy in the nursery. Attended her therapy sessions.

Spent long, sleepless nights tossing and turning, finding it hard,  _ so  _ hard to breathe.

The grief had gone.

After that first awful week, she hadn’t cried once. The sadness had settled into a pain that never left, its fingers wrapped tight around her lungs, ready to squeeze at a moment’s notice.

Her anger at the Council had faded too.

There was no  _ point  _ in it.

It wouldn’t change their minds.

Only her  _ Minder  _ could do that, and while Harissa had been cooperating with her, vaguely hoping she might give the go-ahead to return to New Draxis—

That didn’t happen.

Whenever she found her way to a certain room filled with cribs, she was met with gratitude and smiles from Keren and Kiplec.

They had yet to ask her what she planned to do next.

They simply accepted her into their routines, allowing her to find structure and regularity.

She could almost swear that the little ones felt her pain and tried to alleviate it with their giggles, smiles, and attempts to push at her in the Force. She only wished it would make her feel something more than the gray drab that had settled over everything the same way dust gathered on every surface available on Ryloth.

 

* * *

 

Another two months had passed when Master Yoda summoned Harissa to meet with him.

Just the two of them.

The meeting room was small, and on the holotable in the center of it stood a recording sent from Ryloth.

“My name is Gobi Glee. I am Cham Syndulla’s second in command. Today, I led a small team of volunteers back to the site of the Three-Thirty-Seventh’s massacre.”

Harissa watched him, acutely aware of Yoda watching  _ her. _

“It didn’t feel right to us to leave them there, considering all they sacrificed for us, and for Ryloth. Our planet has many scavengers, so we were unable to recover any bodies. All I have to offer is Master Di’s lightsaber, and a recording we pulled from one of the deactivated droids. I am sorry we could not give him rites, or send him home for you to perform your own, but you will see he died with honor. They all did. Our condolences to the apprentice, and we thank you for all the Jedi Order has done, and continues to do for our people.” Gobi bowed, and the hologram flickered, shifted—

The perspective bobbed up and down, a jittery feel to the footage that reflected the fact it had been captured through a droid’s optical sensors.

This particular unit had collapsed early in the fight, not fully shutting down.

Harissa watched the clones fall.

Watched her master fight like she’d never seen him fight before.

He was magnificent.

She saw Keeli fall, then fall again.

Saw her master’s fierce content as hope for the Twi’leks arrived.

Saw him drop, the lightsaber roll from his hand.

And then the small meeting room fell into shadow as the blue light of the holo vanished.

There was a shuffle, and then something cold was pressed into her hands.

Harissa’s fingers closed around a familiar hilt, and she felt the crystal’s resonance within.

She stared down at it for a long moment, and then over to Yoda, who watched her with sorrowful eyes.

He seemed to be expecting something from her, but Harissa had no idea what it could be.

Grief?

Her tears had run dry long ago.

She felt nothing.

She’d watched bolts tear through her friends, her soldiers, her master—

And she’d felt nothing.

She returned the saber to Yoda. He looked surprised, in the dim light of the room.

“Keep it, you may,” he countered.

“I don’t want it,” was her simple response.

It would just be something else to add to the chest she never intended to open again.

She bowed, the gesture perfect in its form, and said, “Thank you, Master. May I go?”

He nodded, but she could feel his gaze warming her back as she left.

_ He’s worried about me _ , she realized.  _ Curious. I’m doing better than I ever would have thought possible. Much better. _

_I’m not running anymore._

 

* * *

 

Yoda’s concern took form in forcing her to join Master-Padawan teams for short missions. A day in this system with that pair, another couple rotations with another set on this other planet...

They were all kind to her. Each master tried to invest time in her as well as in their own padawan, but...

They were already stretched thin.

The days bled together, one blurring into the next into the next to the next.

There had been a few attempts to set her up with a new master of her own—

But none of them seemed to get the hint. They worked with her, thanked her for the help, and sent her on her way.

That one time Yoda threw her with a Jedi-Antarian Ranger pair was something she was never going to forget, and probably never forgive.

So it was with trepidation when she received yet another assignment from Yoda.

_ Learn all I can about Jedi Master Pleft Yedra. _

Her hope that this was an individual who had lived and died a few thousand years ago evaporated as soon as she looked him up.

And would you look at  _ that. _ Padawanless. What an amusing coincidence.

Harissa sighed, unable to roust any anger.

What  _ was  _ simply  _ was. _

Ima-Gun would have urged her to make it  _ better—  _ would have encouraged her to dream, scheme, and do something more than simply wait for more disaster to strike, but...

He’d raced to meet death, lightsaber lit and lethal.

But it was still death.

The way Harissa saw it, the difference between his final charge and sitting, waiting for the end was simply how much energy was expended.

It all amounted to the same thing, eventually.

She’d held Malli at arm’s length.

She’d embraced Master Di.

It didn’t make either of them any less dead.

Harissa worked her way through the files she had clearance for, and could see, from an objective standpoint, why Yoda was trying this way.

The man had lost two padawans to death, and just plain given up on the whole concept of apprenticeship.

_ Smart. _

_ So he offered to take a couple clans out on their first “mission.” _

It sounded adorable, and everything looked safe enough.

And then it all went to kark.

Harissa’s eyes widened as she realized what the words hovering before her eyes  _ meant. _

It wasn’t hard to imagine the terror the man must have felt when he awoke to discover he’d been knocked out and the children were  _ missing. _

Slavers.

Harissa read as quickly as her brain could manage.

He tracked them down and rescued them. Multiple kidnappers died in the process, and a few still rotted in Republic prisons...

But in the chaos of battle, one of the children disappeared.

_ What do you  _ mean,  _ disappeared? _

The slavers didn’t have her. Pleft Yedra didn’t have her. She’d  _ been  _ there at the start of the final conflict—

And all the searches of the area turned up nothing.

And, four years later...

They still had nothing.

Yedra had returned the others home, then dedicated himself to finding the lost little one. According to the files, he’d become single-focused to a point where his colleagues had become concerned about his physical health.

_And then the war_ _hit. And because he had no leads... he answered the call._

Harissa branched off from information about  _ him,  _ and moved to the child.

That’s when she found a picture.

A tiny, five-year-old Twi’lek girl with a smile that could set Ilum ablaze. Gray-blue skin. Sparkling eyes.

_ Talee Artec. _

_She’d be nine, now._

If she was still alive.

Harissa might not have any specialized knowledge about such things, but she knew they had long,  _ long  _ passed the time when the chances of finding Talee alive had become... very... small indeed.

_ Yoda wants to pair me with  _ him _? His luck is almost as bad as  _ mine.

And that was probably what the ancient Jedi had been thinking about.

_ The likelihood of his agreeing to take me is ridiculously slim. Unless he’s looking for suicide. And if that’s the case, there’s easier ways. _

A little note caught her attention, tucked in amidst the rest of Talee’s files.

At five years of age, the child had already shown remarkable talent when it came to computers. She’d been reprimanded on more than one occasion for hacking into Temple systems.

Somehow, that hurt worse than the descriptions of height and weight, because it gave a hint to the little one’s personality. The way she was unique from every other tiny Twi’lek out there.

Harissa wanted to close out the reports, ignore it—

Five years old.

Out there, alone. Either lost, or grabbed by  _ someone— _

A Force-sensitive, somewhat-trained, female Twi’lek...

Of rare coloring.

Harissa shuddered.

The cards couldn’t be  _ more  _ stacked against her.

_ She didn’t stand a chance. _

Was she dead? Or was she locked away in the back room of a cantina somewhere?

No wonder Yedra had nearly gone mad.

Harissa could imagine the horror of returning to the Temple, two smiling Clan Mothers approaching to welcome their younglings home—

She knew it wasn’t Keren. The timing wasn’t right.

But Talee’s Clan Mother took his form in her mind.

She saw the fear light his eyes, saw him quickly wading through it so he could  _ ask— _

Quiet-murmured words—

The other Clan Mother, probably a friend, drawing both sets of younglings away—

Keren’s skin draining of blood. The horror in his eyes.

The way his face crumpled.

The way he turned to face his younglings, crouched down, and gathered them close, as many in his arms as he could manage—

The sobs of the children—

His silent tears as he comforted them as best he could—

_ “Where is she?” _

_“Is she dead?”_

_“Why didn’t he find her?”_

_“Is she hurt?”_

_“When will she come home?”_

_“I told him we couldn’t leave without her, but he wouldn't listen to me—!”_

Harissa’s throat closed up and she pushed away from the computer terminal.

“What are you doing?” The voice was cold and startled Harissa.

She turned to find a human man standing behind her.

He matched the archives’ records of Pleft Yedra exactly.

Guilt flooded Harissa’s face, even though she knew it was, in theory, unreasonable.

“I— an assignment Master Yoda gave me.” Harissa straightened, trying to look less like someone caught doing something wrong.

Yedra’s shoulders sagged, and the ire in his eyes bled away, leaving him looking defeated. “Then you must be Padawan Nol.”

“That is correct.”

“And also what Master Yoda meant when he told me something  _ important  _ would be waiting for me here.” He gestured. “Should have known he hadn’t given up.”

Harissa winced. “Yeah. He won’t leave me alone either.”

Dark eyes watched her, careful, confused—

“You don’t want me to be your master?”

“No.” Harissa scowled. “Definitely not. I’ve  _ done  _ this song and dance  _ enough _ . I’m tired of it.”

A little of his tension relaxed, but  _ only  _ a little. “He’s maneuvering  _ both  _ of us, then.”

“Yeah. Clearly he was hoping that by reading your files, I’d feel some need to heal you, or something.” Harissa’s words faltered as she realized how calloused they sounded.

But instead of looking insulted, he sent her a wan smile. “He definitely expected something similar from me when he told me your story.”

“Fortunately we’ve seen through it, so we’re both safe.” Harissa tried to laugh, but couldn’t make it work.

At least the situation felt  _ less  _ awkward now, as if throwing blame onto Yoda had solved a world of trouble.

For a long moment there was silence.

And then Harissa couldn’t keep herself from asking the question that burned her soul. “Just one thing... how did you manage to walk away from the search and step into the war?”  
Something in his eyes died. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I hate myself for it every day.”  
Harissa tried to hide her shock.

“The record doesn’t state  _ when  _ I made the switch. I managed to ignore the war for a year and a half. By then, it had trampled all over the areas of my search, muddying trails even further. And the Two-Sixteenth had just lost their Jedi. There had been a close bond there, and there wasn’t anybody else who could take them on. They needed immediate care and leadership, and they were standing in the middle of my investigation.”

“If you—” Harissa struggled to find words to express her question— “If you hate yourself for it, why haven’t you walked  _ away  _ from the war? Gone back to the hunt?”

She glanced down, realized his fingers were clenched into fists, the bones of his knuckles straining against his skin, trying to escape.

“I have nowhere else to look.” He reached out with the Force and shut down the reports and images she’d had up. “I’ve exhausted every lead.”

Harissa shook her head. “Did the knights who assist Law Enforcement help? Did you go to the underworld specialists—”

“I went to everyone, and they tried everything.”

The words weren’t said with the venom of a man whose intelligence or capability had been questioned, but the tone of one who had lost all hope.

Another silence.

Then, “Are you going to back to searching, when you give up on the war?”

A tiny smile tugged at his lips at her choice of words. “Of course. I only agreed to be a general as long as the troops were in my triangle of space. The moment they leave, I’m done, and I get back to my real job. The Council knows it.”  
“What if you never find her?”

“I will search until the day I die, even if it’s only to find record of where her body was dumped.”

Now that _... _

_ That  _ was something she could get behind.

“Master Yoda isn’t going to give up. He’s just going to keep pushing on me and everyone else until someone takes me.” Harissa tried to sound uninterested. “Do you think he’s going to do something similar with you?”

A heavy sigh preceded his answer. “He keeps talking about falling off of banthas and getting back on them again.”

“I’ve heard that speech.” Harissa shrugged. “You don’t want me, I don’t want you, but we’re each going to have to end up with  _ somebody.  _ At least you and I understand each other. If you take someone  _ else,  _ they’re going to wonder why you’re preoccupied with someone from the past. It could easily become a shadow hanging over them, especially since you have no interest in bonding again.”

The look in his eyes said he’d thought of that.

“I don’t  _ want  _ to get close. You don’t want to get close. I only need someone to survive me until I’m knighted. I’m your chance to prove to Master Yoda that you haven’t given up.”

Cautious interest sparked along his Force signature. “I wouldn’t want you to call me  _ master.  _ Yedra would do.”

She couldn’t quite stomach the thought of calling someone who  _ wasn’t _ Ima-Gun Di by that beloved title anyway. “Won’t be a problem.”

“And what should I call you?”

“I wouldn’t want you to call me  _ padawan. _ Nol would be fine.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Do you want a week to think it over?”  
“I don’t think so.”

“Well, then.” Yedra bowed his head to her in recognition. “I shall inform Master Yoda of his victory.”  
Harissa huffed a humorless laugh. “Is that what happened here?”

“It usually is, Nol. Usually is.”

 

* * *

 

Harissa followed steps she’d performed so many times once more.

The official send-off by the Council.

The journey down to the outfitters.

She left a holo for Defo; a short, wry message that she was  _ trying again,  _ so  _ wish me luck. _

She took the news to Keren and Kiplec in person, and felt just a little guilty that she didn’t feel as excited as she sensed they felt in the Force.

_ Don’t get your hopes up,  _ she thought, and for the first time in her life, she wasn’t warning  _ herself. _

The 216 th was present on Coruscant, the Illuminator just finishing up repairs.

Harissa placed her new bundle on the provided bunk, then proceeded to where she knew the mess hall had to be.

It wasn’t easy to walk halls that looked just like those in the Recovery _. _ She half-expected to find  _ her  _ men around every corner.

There was the mess.

And there were faces that looked so familiar... and so foreign, all at the same time.

She strode in, confident—

And men moved to block her path.

A quick glance around told Harissa they weren’t here to make her feel  _ welcome. _

In fact...

One moved into her personal space. She took note of the differences in his armor, and realized this had to be Yedra’s former second-in-command.

She held her ground, and for once felt pleased with the fact that they had to look  _ up  _ into her face.

“We know who you are,” he growled. “The Jedi killer. What was General Di? Your  _ fourth _ ?”

Harissa stared at him in stunned disbelief, even though he was off by a few. “ _ Excuse me _ ?”  
“We’ve heard of the Three-Thirty-Seventh.  _ Everyone  _ has. The men who went down with their general.  _ Annihilated _ . To the last shiny and  _ crewman,  _ rather than abandon him. And the sole survivor. His own  _ padawan _ walked away.”

Her eyes narrowed in anger. “I wasn’t  _ there— _ ”

“Because you were safe at home with a wound that could have easily been treated on the Recovery.”

How did they even  _ know  _ about that? “You are  _ way  _ out of line,  _ Commander _ ,” she growled. “The fact we bear the same title does  _ not  _ make us the same rank.”

He nodded, glanced away, then leaned closer and hissed, “Don’t get our general killed.”

With that, the pack melted away, the men blending in with those who hadn’t looked up from their meals, merely listening in silent agreement.

The hostility in the room was vicious in the Force.

She turned on her heel and marched out. She thought to head for the bridge to meet Yedra, but she overheard one of the uniformed men whisper to another, “The  _ entire battalion _ . Not even Krell had a kill-rate that high.”

_ Krell _ ? The man who had gone dark and  _ intentionally  _ sent clones to kill clones?

Harissa snarled and retreated to her room.

Fortunately she managed to seal the door shut before the tears broke free from the dams anger had built.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

“Yedra, this is Nol. My recon is complete.” Harissa leaned against the filthy wall that lined her chosen alley.

Dressed in traditional Betescan garb of loose dark trousers, white doublet with sleeves, and a white hood that extended down into a short shoulder-cape, Harissa knew the likelihood of her being recognized as an offworlder was slim.

Her height, build, and skin tone fit in with the most prevalent human population.

Yedra wouldn’t have made it down four streets in this place before everyone knew he was  _ not-from-around-here. _

Even the clones would have had trouble. They were short enough to draw attention, and their skin too fair.

“Good.” The older Jedi patted his clone commander’s shoulder, both of them tiny blue figures rising from the comlink Harissa held in a white-wrapped hand. “How is the situation with the civilians? If we march through the main gate, will they be in harm’s way?”

“There are tanks patrolling that area, and most of the people seem to be trying to avoid them. They resent the droids. The atmosphere here is so thick with hostility I’m surprised it hasn’t ignited yet.”

“How do they see us?”

“As useless. There seems to be no love for the Republic here. They expect us to kick the droids out because that’s what we’re  _ supposed  _ to do, but few of them believe we’ll actually bother. I don’t think they’ll try to hinder us, but they probably will heckle about what a poor job we’re doing.”

All in all, a fairly normal slice of life in the three weeks they’d been stationed on snowy Betesca 6.

“That we can handle. Blast? How long until the men are ready to move?”

The clone commander, who had his helmet sealed firmly over his head, turned the visor away from Harissa and to his general. His hand rose to his ear, his head tilted down as he communicated through his helmet’s comm system.

“Nol, will you be able to compromise the sensors or sentries that might give away our advance? The best-case scenario would be for the droids to not realize we’re here until we’re pouring through the gate.”

Harissa considered it. “Probably.” _If I start in the south corner, the moonlight won_ _’t reveal the missing guards, and the shadows can hide me. Work my way north from there..._

Blast’s DC came up with a creak that was as familiar to Harissa’s ears as her own name.

A flicker of a frown furrowed Yedra’s forehead and he looked up. “Blast? What’s wrong?”

The general’s eyes widened as Blast’s finger caressed the trigger.

For a moment he tottered there, tunics charred, the flesh of the wound actually  _ glowing  _ orange—

Harissa’s heart stopped, and the world ceased to spin.

Yedra collapsed backward like a child’s doll.

Harissa felt his death. In the Force, it felt like a solid punch to her solar plexus.

Powdery snow billowed up around the body when it hit the ground.

The crisp air stung Harissa’s lungs.

Flares of blue streaked across her vision, from Blast, from men outside the holo’s range—

The cold burned Harissa’s nostrils, on up into her nasal passages.

The corpse seemed to twitch as it was torn apart.

A rat-sparrow landed near Harissa’s feet, scratching at the hard-packed snow, searching for seeds, scraps; its individual feathers glinting in the dying light of the sun.

Red speckled the white around Yedra’s fallen form, the crimson patches growing by the millisecond—

Blood splashed Blast’s white boots—

The Force twisted, like a doomed building— creaking, shrieking—

Vertigo seized Harissa as darkness exploded through it.

Death upon death upon death—

_ Betrayal— _

A vice clamped around her chest—

The rat-sparrow let loose a happy note.

For one second, an eternity,  _ agony  _ ripped through Harissa’s mind—

And then there was utter emptiness.

She desperately reached to the Force,  _ reached— _

A howling wilderness responded, darkness reaching  _ back. _

A strangled breath escaped her as Blast lowered his weapon.

Struggling to block out the crawling, invading filth— terrified by its implications—

Harissa realized mere seconds had passed.

The rat-sparrow cocked its head and evaluated her with a beady eye.

“ _ What _ ?” was all she managed to rasp, staring at Blast as the man turned to look at her.

“What about the padawan?” someone asked.

Blast scoffed. “We’ll get her when we take the city. It’s not like there’s anywhere for the traitor to run.” His hand reached out, his intention clear.

“No,  _ no _ ! Don’t you  _ dare! _ ” she screamed at him—

But he cut the connection anyway.

The rat-sparrow chirped.

Harissa tried to remember how to breathe.

The darkness pounded mercilessly at her shields.

And in the back of her mind, where there had always been the comforting hum of ten thousand Jedi voices lifted in harmonious song—

There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Harissa’s knees shuddered, and she sank to kneel, her comlink slipping from numb fingers to hit the snow.

The rat-sparrow screeched and flitted to a safer vantage point a couple meters away.

How could  _ clones  _ kill  _ Jedi _ ?

How could  _ these  _ clones, kill  _ that Jedi _ ?

_ They  _ loved  _ him. They hated me because they were afraid  _ I’d—

_ They’re coming for me. I’m next. _

And she had no idea,  _ none at all,  _ why.

According to the Force...

Jedi all around the galaxy were  _ dead. _

It wasn’t just Yedra.

She couldn’t  _ believe  _ that. It was too  _ massive,  _ too  _ immediate. _

Hadn’t taken enough  _ time. _

Hadn’t had any warning.

She reached into the Force again,  _ sure  _ she would be able to find  _ someone— _

It was like digging her hand into a bed of white-hot coals, hoping to find a cube of ice.

She couldn’t sense anyone.

Not  _ anyone. _

All that remained? Whispers of screams that echoed through the vast, empty chambers.

Tears flooded her eyes and she grit her teeth against the pain as she stared into the void and  _ knew. _

_ They’re all dead. _

It seemed  _ impossible.  _ No Separatist assassination attempt would work so  _ thoroughly.  _ No droids could sneak past the vigilance of  _ all  _ of those Jedi and their clones combined. No living being could either. Some, perhaps. Maybe even many.

Not all.

_ The only ones who  _ could...  _ would be the clones. _

That thought was too  _ staggering  _ to even understand. Her mind stuttered against it, struggling to comprehend.

_He called me a traitor._

Who could have convinced  _ all  _ of the clones  _ simultaneously  _ that the Jedi—  _ their best friends—  _ were the enemy?

_ Dooku? _

But Dooku was  _ dead. _ Felled just a couple days ago, not long after she turned sixteen standard years old. It had been a good birthday gift.

She didn’t know the answer, but something was very,  _ very  _ clear.

_ They’re coming for me next. _

They had mutilated Yedra’s body long after they  _ had  _ to have known he was dead.

_And if they did that to someone they loved, what will they do to someone they already hated?_

Panic sent an electric jolt through her system as she realized her comlink’s tracker was still on.

She seized the device and, as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow, disabled the signal.

She had to move.  _ Now. _

Slipping away, leaving the rat-sparrow to its cheerful search for dinner, Harissa moved with careful nonchalance.

She knew a few things about hiding.

And the first, the very  _ first,  _ was to  _ not  _ look like you  _ were. _

_ Don’t run. Walk. _

_Don’t watch over your shoulder. Use the windows of shops, any available mirrors._

They were tactics taught to young ones at the Temple, in case they were ever separated from their masters on a mission.

And then expounded upon  _ again,  _ for infiltration purposes...

_ Blast is right. There is nowhere on this planet to hide. _

Not for long-term.

Part of her balked, wanting to assert it was all a  _ mistake  _ and if she just  _ returned to Coruscant,  _ it would all work out—

But the Force was urging her, sending her warning signals—

It was better to overreact, than to be dead.

_ The instant the clones get control of the spaceport, any chance for getting off-planet will go away. _

It might be gone already.

She ducked into another alley and took cover behind some trash bins. Sliding the pack on her back to the ground, she pulled out her belt and datapad.

She felt the comforting whisper of her lightsaber’s crystal from the weapon’s concealment in her heavy boot.

That foot was quite a bit less warm than the other, since the insulation had been hollowed out to make room.

There were  _ reasons  _ the footwear on this planet was so bulky, and she was feeling it now.

_ I need to take inventory of what I have. _

Temma. Was Temma gone too?

Harissa drew in a quivering breath, then kept her fingers moving.

_Five emergency ration sticks. Three packs of instant-water._

That would last to get her off-planet, but not a heck of a lot longer.

Depending on where she went, the lack of a water purification device could become problematic.

The tiny collection of Republic credits wasn’t going to last her very long. She set them to one side.

Personal care devices and cleanser... needle and thread...

All standard, all familiar—

Four computer spikes. There had been six, but she’d already used two in her investigations.

A shiny black emergency blanket, folded into a tiny square.

She might need that tonight.

She lifted the disguise kit.

_I’m actually going to use it._

It twisted at her heart. The researchers and outfitting specialists were dead...

_ But maybe you saved me. _

Was it possible that there were other Jedi out there, breaking into their emergency pockets as well?

_They know what I’m wearing. I need to change my profile._

Yes... that was training.

_ But right now I look like everyone else. I’ll blend in. _

If she changed that  _ too  _ much, she was going to lose the advantage she had gained by leaving her Jedi robes back at camp.

She swiped the droptacs. Purple, she saw.

_ I should have more faith in the outfitters. _

No. Should have  _ had. _

She winced at the thought and carefully applied the tacs. Checking in the tiny mirror to make sure no hint of brown peeked out around the purple, she blinked a couple times to make sure they’d stay.

There was only one packet of skin-tone modifying dye, one that would make her shade a bit darker.

She considered it for a long moment.

_ Right now... my cover is very solid. It might  _ not  _ be later. _

She tucked the rest of the disguising options away, keeping only the unmarked credits out.

_Let’s find a ride out of here._

Harissa eyed the unregistered comlink for a long moment.

Perhaps it would be better to ditch her Army-issued one  _ now _ ...

But what if Blast tried to make contact? It might be her only chance to find out what had  _ happened— _

_Who am I kidding? I need to go to ground. Completely._

So she dropped her well-used link on the ground and crushed it under her boot.

She checked her datapad, which contained all of her recon notes and the various codes she’d obtained using her spike, and flipped through to the air traffic data.

She hadn’t cared about it before, but...

There. The bar near the spaceport.

It would likely have a job and bounty terminal, and where there were terminals, there were edge-walking pilots who might not mind risking Separatist and Republic ire.

Harissa made her way through Umric, not once receiving a sideways glance.

_ You look like you belong. Act like it, and no-one will think twice. _

She felt dismayed by the sheer terror she was experiencing.

Hadn’t she  _ wanted  _ to have died with the 337 th ? So why was the thought of the 216 th catching her  _ doing  _ this to her?

She hadn’t cared about  _ anything  _ in  _ months,  _ yet now she was prepared to fight to her last bloody fingernail to  _ keep  _ this life of hers.

Surely her  _ Minder  _ would have something to say about it.

Her Minder, who should still be alive, since she wasn’t Jedi.

Harissa stomped on the slight desire to return to Coruscant and ask her for help. _ No. I  _ cannot  _ do what would be expected of me to do. I don’t know what’s safe. _

Again, the whisper in her mind.

What if she was overreacting?

What if this was all some big mistake?

She sobbed a laugh.

That would be one  _ hell  _ of a mistake.

Her emergency comm pinged.

Harissa froze, staring down at it. She  _ knew  _ that signal.

_ Come home immediately. _

Her heart lunged into her throat.

Only  _ Council  _ members could set that call, and it would be heard on every Jedi comlink in the galaxy.

It meant  _ someone  _ had survived the massacre.

Not just someone.

Someone  _ in charge. _

Relief surged through her veins. Now she didn’t have to figure out what planet to go  _ to. _

She just had to bribe a pilot, or, at worst, steal a ship, and get to Coruscant.

_ Meet up with the other survivors. _

A sob caught in her throat. Then another.

She pulled into the deepening shadows between two tall buildings and crouched low, trying to pull herself together.

It didn’t work.

She held her knees and shivered, weeping as silently as she could manage.

The temperature had dropped as soon as the suns disappeared, leaving Betesca 6 to the mercy of the winds that swept the the moon’s plains and frozen jungles, but it wasn’t the cold that had seized control over her body.

_ I’m not the only one. _

Not this time.

It had been one thing to hold it together when she thought it had happened  _ again _ , a slaughter she alone had escaped—

It was the relief that destroyed her.

_It’s night. The clones will be on their way._

They didn’t have anybody to let them into the city, but Harissa doubted that would  _ stop  _ them.

She had far too much respect for clone determination.

Harissa pulled herself to her feet.  _ You can’t afford to  _ think  _ about any of it until you’re out of here. It’s just like a battle. You stop the source, then you can tend the wounded. _

She waited as a patrol of two B1s passed her hiding place, the rusty clank of their feet muffled by the dirty, trompled snow.

As one, they halted, the lights of their photoreceptors flickered—

And then they folded in on themselves, becoming small packages in the street.

Harissa stared, drawing deeper into the shadows.

_ That  _ wasn’t what happened when a droid was injured. It only happened when deactivated.

In the  _ on-off  _ kind of way, not other, more violent ways.

That meant  _ somebody  _ had some way of triggering that response.

_ And I don’t know who. _

Given the state of destruction in the Force, Harissa had every intention of finding out  _ slowly. _

She crept out of the alley at the end  _ away  _ from the droids, and made a very wide circle around.

That’s when she caught sight of a tank, behaving as if it lay in a  _ warehouse. _

She found more droids in the adjoining streets— all patrols— all shut down like they’d received  _ orders— _

A chill ran down her spine.

No Separatist would have given such orders. Not with the clone army so close.

And her men didn’t have the  _ ability  _ to fake such orders.

_ The Jedi are slaughtered. Then the droids shut down, giving the clones the victory. _

Harissa’s heart thundered.

_ What does that  _ mean _? _

It was a bit  _ much  _ for a  _ coincidence. _

_ You don’t know it’s happening everywhere. _

But she  _ did  _ know Jedi died everywhere.

And she greatly suspected it was the clones who’d pulled that off.

_ They’re the only ones who could. _

But the Separatists should be taking advantage of the Republic’s new  _ weakness. _

Instead...

Their army shut down without a fight?

_Don’t make assumptions. Assumptions get you killed._

_Yeah? So does naivete._

Someone had to have organized this.

And she needed to move  _ fast,  _ since there was nothing to slow the clones down now.

She reached the cantina and slid inside.

The place was crowded almost to the breaking point, everyone speculating on what the failed droids  _ meant. _

From what Harissa could hear, the entire  _ garrison  _ was down.

As well as the garrisons on nearby planets.

Harissa bit back the panic that wanted to take control of her.

She needed to get out.  _ Now. _

She had to get  _ home  _ before they  _ caught  _ her.

Keeping her head down, Harissa pushed her way through the throng to the bar. The press was too thick to permit searching along the walls of the establishment without drawing massive amounts of attention to herself. She’d have to locate the terminal some other way.

She found a tiny opening by the bar and wedged herself in.

Busy talking, the humans all around left her alone.

She had no delusions of that meaning they didn’t  _ notice  _ her. She tried to rely on the intensity of the purple of her new eyes, knowing  _ that  _ was what was going to stand out to most people.  _ She looked normal, we haven’t seen her here before... and  _ damn,  _ those  _ eyes _! _

As far as she knew, the clones were unaware of Jedi emergency stashes.

That being the case, the purple might buy her a few more minutes.

“What are you looking for?” The bartender moved close to be heard over the chaos of the room.

“The job terminal.”

“It’s fairly busy. What sort of work are you looking for? There’s people here today looking to hire.”

Harissa shook her head. “I’m looking for a pilot.”

The man, who looked like he might be approaching his eighties, leaned his elbows on the bar. “Nobody is flying out of here these days. Not with the capital ships up there. You ’ll have to try Mestan.”

_ That’s not even in this hemisphere! _

He saw her split second of desperation.

Harissa kicked herself viciously over it, schooling her features. “How about low flights that never leave the atmosphere? Who can get me to Mestan?”

He eyed her thoughtfully, then winced. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “I get shipments in every month. If you’ll wait a week, I’ll send you with the ship on its return.”

“How much would it cost?” she braced herself, envisioning months of trekking on foot through the snow—

“Help me with the dishes this week, and you’ll be set.”

Harissa’s eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. “Washing ale mugs?” she challenged. Yeah  _ right. _

He sighed. “Yes, child. Would you feel less insulted if I let you wash the floors too?”

“Why would you want to help me?” Harissa interrogated, recognizing her posture had subtly shifted into something more aggressive.

Sorrow blinked into his eyes for a heartbeat, then was gone. “I’ve seen too many war orphans in my day.”

Harissa felt her glare turn plastic.

“There’s a look about them. In their eyes. In the way they walk.”

She could almost feel the comforting weight of Ima-Gun’s hand on her shoulder. See the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Jezui. Lela. Yema. Malli.

Now Onna too, probably.

Yoda.

_ I’ve been orphaned many times over. _

“And they don’t trust easy.” The bartender shrugged. “So go ahead, find your own way to Mestan. Just don’t tell anybody what I offered. I can’t be helping every waif who comes my way.” He stood up and turned away—

“ _ Wait. _ ”

He complied.

She searched the Force around him, but she could only sense a sort of grumpy compassion and an old, old sadness.

He might be really,  _ really  _ good at deception—

But there wasn’t anywhere  _ safe _ right now. Certainly not on this planet.

_ I’ll just have to keep my eyes open. _

“Thank you,” Harissa murmured. She felt the Force lightly hum around the old man as he gave a nod without looking at her, and moved on to deal with his customers. There was a bit of a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before.

_ There are good, decent people in this galaxy,  _ she promised herself.  _ He  _ might _ be one of them. _

But in the wake of the clones...

_ I would  _ never  _ have thought them capable of— _

_ I didn’t sense _ any _ warning— _

She felt like every foundation had cracked, and she had no idea which stones would hold her weight...

And which might shoot her in the heart.

When the bartender returned with a mug of water, Harissa hunched over it, mirroring the people around her, and pretended to nurse it along.

_ A week. I just need to keep away from the clones for a week. _

She thought of the men who possessed a tenacity and willingness to endure  _ anything  _ to complete the mission—

And in spite of herself, she glanced over her shoulder to scan the crowd.

Just to make sure she couldn’t see that familiar face.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

Every hour quivered along Harissa’s nerves like the threatening electrical charge of a Parwan.

Smuggled into the kitchen area, she tackled what chores she could in between cycles of dish care.

She had every intention of staying awake long enough to clean the floors once most of the patrons had left, but her body had a different plan.

By the time Harissa awoke, dawn had already come and gone. She found water and food had been left on the floor, a couple meters away.  _ The way someone might leave out the same for an injured animal, wanting to help, but cautious not to scare it away. _

Wincing at how sore her body felt, she accepted the offering and waited for the giver to return and re-open his bar.

Chewing on the now-somewhat-stale bread, she moved to where she could peer out one of the dingy windows at the front. Not close enough to be seen from the street, but at an angle where she herself could see.

She nearly choked on her mouthful when she saw white-armored figures patrolling.

Breathing with focused care through her nose, Harissa held very still. One of the clones turned, grabbed a person walking past—

With a jolt, Harissa realized the unlucky individual was about her size—

They spun the girl around, the teenager’s eyes widening in terror—

And then they shoved her away.

Her friends gathered around her, throwing half-afraid, wholly-furious glares at the soldiers who marched on as if nothing had happened.

Slinking farther back from the window, Harissa realized her hands were shaking.

She retreated behind the bar and sat on the floor, back pressed against the sheltering weight of the heavy wood. She clenched her eyelids shut and tried to simply  _ breathe. _

She had no doubt they were stopping all flights out of the system to search.

And then a worse thought occurred.

_ What if they aren’t even searching? What if they’ve simply cut the planet off? Nothing gets out? _

She had faith in smugglers. Malli had said again and again that if a rule has been given, there  _ will be people  _ who have figured out how to get away with bending it. Or completely bypassing it.

Malli had known what she was doing, most of the time. With that one big exception of the medication mixup.

_ Trust in Malli. I  _ can  _ get out of here, I just have to find the right person. _

A more immediate question pestered her for attention.

_ Is it possible they might go from house to house? _

Did they want to kill her  _ that  _ desperately? Umric was not a tiny place. It wasn’t Coruscant, but then,  _ nowhere  _ was Coruscant.

_ I just have to stay low until I can get to Mestan. _

If she could find a relay, perhaps she could get a signal to the Temple.

_ No. No. They’ll hack all coded transmissions. They have the tech, they have the time... and they know I might try. _

_I’m on my own until I can get home._

She just had to survive until then.

Her head hit the underside of the counter as she jumped, startled by another ping from her comlink.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she inspected the link.

_Further instructions._ In holographic form, apparently.

Thank the  _Force._ She  _needed_ contact, even if it was only a recorded message.

She made sure the audio would be as low as she could possibly hear, then activated the tiny blue image.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place.”

_Empire? What Empire?_

The Republic had...  _fallen_ ? But the Separatist army was  _down_ , it—

“This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in the Force. Do  _not_ return to the Temple. That time has passed and our future is uncertain.  _Avoid Coruscant._ Avoid detection. Be  _secret,_ but be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and in time I believe a new hope  _will_ emerge. May the Force be with you.” His voice sank to a whisper, just the tiniest hint of grief finally leaking through his control over self as he added, “Always.”

Harissa stared at where the hologram had disappeared in broken shock.

No.  _No._

If someone on the Council was  _alive,_ someone with the tactical skills of  _Master Kenobi,_ then she needed to be  _with_ him, that was her best chance for  _survival—_ he couldn ’t really mean she was on  _ her own _ ? For  _ good _ ?

_ You can’t just abandon me! _ her heart wailed.  _ You might be all that’s left of the Council, and the Council exists to protect us! _

She keyed the holo again.

This time she could see the tightness around his eyes, hear the heaviness that he tried to conceal from his voice.

He was trying to make anyone who received it feel there was hope.

_ Hope? Does he  _ truly  _ believe there is any? _

Harissa couldn’t tell. It sounded like he did.

But there was so much  _ grief  _ there, just under the surface—

_ Why didn’t he set up a meeting place, or at _ least  _ a drop for communication? Why isn’t he having us find one another? Shouldn’t we be together? If we ever needed one another it’s _ now _! _

And then she was cold.

So cold it felt like her bones had been replaced with replicas made of ice.

_ He didn’t actually tell us anything. _

Nothing.

The only pieces of information revealed were that he had to have been in the Temple when the message was created, and that he had still been alive at that point.

That was  _it._

_And if I_ _ ’d had a straight shot at it, I’d be  _ on  _ Coruscant by now. _

_I’d have run straight to the Temple._

_Just like it said._

_We’ve been compromised._

Maybe this was another assumption she  _ couldn’t  _ work from— like assuming the Separatist army was shut down  _ everywhere,  _ but—

_ Someone sent that first message. _

_A message that would have apparently drawn us like fluffmoths to a flame._

_Someone on the Council betrayed us._

Faces and voices flashed through Harissa’s mind, but she couldn’t  _ fathom  _ how it could be  _ possible— _ they were all so  _ kind,  _ so  _ selfless— _

Yes, Windu might be harsh, but he was the staunchest defender they  _ had— _

_Master Kenobi didn’t warn us. He must not know who it is._

And if he’d been  _ on  _ the Council and couldn’t tell—

She thought of the clones turning on them—  _ everywhere— _

Of the fact that the Jedi hadn’t  _ seen  _ it, hadn’t suspected—

Harissa stifled a whimper into her wrist. _Master Kenobi doesn’t want us trying to find each other because we won’t be able to tell friend from foe. Being Jedi doesn’t_ _necessarily mean_ friend _anymore, and a Jedi in authority... is even more dangerous. More likely to be the traitor._

If she couldn’t trust Jedi, and she couldn’t trust clones, and the Republic was  _ gone— _

_ An Empire does not mean a democracy. And surely the Separatists would never put up with it— _

Unless they had no choice...

With their army shut down, Dooku dead—

_ What about Grievous? _

Maybe he’d been in on it too.

Both Republic and CIS must have been betrayed  _ somehow. _ But  _ who  _ could have been in a position to  _ do  _ something like that?

_ And who is in charge of the Empire? What happened to Palpatine and the Senators? _

She didn’t  _ like  _ the man, didn’t  _ respect  _ the man, but she respected the  _ office  _ of Chancellor, and what it represented.

She leaned her head back against the dark wood and realized she had nowhere to go, no way of getting there, and no one to help.

_I’m alone._

Before she realized it, she’d reached to the Force again. It was so  _ instinctual _ to do so—

In rushed the horrifying truth. The emptiness. A broken wail of cold through what had once comforted Harissa with its nearness.

It felt like the Force itself had been turned into an enemy.

She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the void, away from the hunger that seemed to reach for her, demanding  _ she  _ fill the vacuum.

_ If I die, it will  _ increase  _ the emptiness. Not lessen it. _

And yet the Force didn’t seem to know it. She tried to find light, but all she could see was the greedy, gleeful dark; dark that had been slowly creeping in, moving from its place and trying to push the light somewhere else—

But it hadn’t settled for dominance.

Only obliteration.

She’d walked the halls of the Temple and thought she knew what it was like to be alone.

_ I was a fool. I was never alone while they lived. _

Part of her urged her to pull back, to  _ run _ , to look away—

But Harissa felt trapped. Nothing felt like it had before. Nothing.

She tried to find light in this city, to take comfort in the fact there was life  _ here— _

But she couldn’t  _ see  _ light, all she could see were the clones, hunting with a vicious single-mindedness. Hell-bent on murder.

She sensed the cruel and unjust in this city, the cries of those injured and oppressed by individuals who had power over them—

She could only feel the dead grass beneath the snow, animals cowering behind trash bins, starved and freezing to death by millimeters.

Was there any light  _ left  _ in the universe?

Her head  _ hurt _ , she had to find  _ something good  _ out there still—

Empire.

Not only were the Jedi  _ gone,  _ but a galaxy had lost its  _ freedom. _

_ Overnight. _

_ Is the war over? I need to access the news. _

She glanced up at the screen near the ceiling. Now black and still.

Last night, she hadn’t been able to hear it over the patrons’ clamor.

Now?

_ If I keep it quiet... very quiet... _

She crawled out from under the counter, only to see something red splash at her feet.

Her hand flew to her nose, and she found blood.

For a long moment she stared at her fingers in grim silence.

And then she was moving.

You could only hope to best fear through preparation.

_ Move, and meet your enemy with a plan of your own. _

_ There is no death, there is only the Force. _

Her masters had claimed that if one listened quietly to the Force, one could hear whispers of those who had gone before. Feel them always with you in nature all around.

In the  _ light. _

_ There is no light any more. _

_There are no Jedi._

And as she watched images flick past her eyes and harsh sounds beat against her ears, she realized...

_I’m a wanted criminal._

_The people have been taught to hate me._

_ I will be hunted to the ends of the universe. _

_My people may have betrayed me, and I cannot tell the difference._

_Everything I ever fought for is destroyed._

And Palpatine was the proud Emperor of an Empire at peace.

Because  _ yes.  _ With a flick of the fingers, the war was  _ over. _

_ It doesn’t _ work  _ like that! _

Yet apparently it  _ did. _

She recognized Senator Organa in some of the images, standing with the new Empire.

Frustration surged through her and she clenched her fingernails tight into their palms.  _ One of the good ones. Right. _

Organa had turned on them.

And apparently, the other open friend of the Jedi in the  _ now-Imperial  _ Senate was...

Dead. It was breaking news. Senator Amidala was dead.

_ We have no friends. No allies. _

The Senate had abandoned them. Big surprise there. Who  _ knew  _ what had been done to the Separatist Parliament. Surely they couldn’t have just... given up, at the drop of a hat. They believed in their cause too strongly for that.

Grievous was dead—

_And we’re being hunted by our best friends._

“Child?”

Harissa startled again, horrified that the bartender could have approached without her noticing.

He crossed his thin, strong arms and stared up at her. “I was right about one thing. You lost a parent. But not the way most people mean.”

She froze, trying to sense if anyone else might be headed this way, trying to discern whether he’d turned her in—

“They’re out there looking. Showing holos of a girl who looks just like you. ’Cept for the eyes. That was quick thinking on your part, but it’s not anywhere near enough.”

She waited in dread.

He sighed. “Look. I would like to help you. I really would. But it’s just not  _ safe.  _ And I’m sure you can manage on your own.”  
“You don’t need to bother with saying things like that last sentence.” Harissa watched him with exhausted eyes. “They’re to make you feel better. Not me.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Still. You have more training than most your age. Being on your own shouldn’t be as bad.”  
“If I was ready to be on my own, I would be  _ knighted  _ already.” Harissa lifted her bag and clutched it tight. “Are you going to let me go?”

His eyes widened. “Good  _ days _ , child. I’m not going to turn you in! When they come here— and they  _ will—  _ I haven’t seen you. But I can’t have you here, either.”

“And your pilot friend?”

“He’s not going to risk it. Taking a passenger is one thing. Taking a passenger when there’s a manhunt is something else.”

Harissa nodded and moved towards the kitchen.

“Toola. Word is that the clones didn’t succeed in taking out all the Jedi on Toola. They’re looking for a Bothan and a human padawan.”

_ Master Hudorra is  _ alive _? _

A humongous weight tumbled from Harissa’s back. 

Toola, just a system over, was not only close enough to  _ reach— _

It was close enough that those Jedi would have been briefed about Pleft Yedra and his padawan, just like Harissa had been given information on the other group.

_ He may even kn _ _ ow I’m alive, same way I now know he is. _

She’d never met him, but he was a target.

And she was in desperate need of direction.

Hudorra, and... Na? Padawan Na? She thought that was the girl’s name.

“I’m going to pack food and water for you. You’ll need to hide for a few weeks until things calm down enough to get to Mestan.”

Harissa’s eyes widened with gratitude, but all she said was, “Any hints on where I can lay low?”

For a long moment he remained silent, and then he sighed. “I might know a guy.”

 

* * *

 

Harissa stared up at the frozen jungle around her, in slight awe of the sheer amount of  _ life  _ she could hear whispering through the trees and understory.

It carried on as it had for centuries.

She watched her steps carefully, more sliding than walking.

The snow of the plains had given way to sheets of ice in the jungle. The slick surface followed the contours of the ground, providing almost no traction.

Ducking under a final vine, careful of his balance, her bartender tapped on a rock.

Harissa’s eyes widened as the rock hinged up, revealing a face that looked like it belonged to a human male in his late thirties.

“Who is this?” he asked, his expression passive.

Harissa could sense waves of suspicion pent up behind that sabacc face.

“On the run from the Empire. They want to kill her.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? What for?”

“She doesn’t fit in their system, and could reveal that something is very wrong in high places.”

The narrowed eyes widened. “Come  _ in. _ ”

The bartender patted Harissa on her shoulder. “Once the fervor dies down, I’ll let you know. Just lay low until things have blown over.”

“ _ Thank you _ .”

He gave her a nod and began his long hike back to town.

“Come in.”

Harissa followed her new guide down a ladder, sealing the hatch once more at his direction.

At the base, she found a tunnel.

“Bomb-proof,” he explained with a smile that almost glowed in the dark. “And there’s a net buried over it that helps scramble sensors.”

Harissa looked around in surprise. “This place isn’t new.”

“No. I’ve been working on it over the last five years.” He led her through an airlock, and into what appeared to be an underground bunker with side tunnels leading off in all directions. “I have everything needed to survive down here indefinitely. Air filtration, water purification, power generation, and I grow all my own food.”

“That’s... impressive.” Harissa reached out in the Force and sensed growing things down one of the halls. “So... what is it? A scientific outpost?”

“No. A safehouse.”

“You mean... like Republic Intelligence?”

“RI? No, no.” Amusement lit his eyes. “The opposite.”

Harissa’s smile went plastic. “Separatist?”

“Ah—  _ no.  _ I was concerned something was coming, and wanted to be off the grid ahead of time.”

Harissa felt the last drops of strength drain away from her. “Something  _ did _ .”

“Here.” He gestured to one of the hallways. “You’ll find a guest room at the far end on the left. There’s a refresher too. As long as you don’t put anything that isn’t biodegradable down the drain, you’re set. And there should be plenty of hot water; just wait a couple minutes for the heating system to kick in.”

Harissa gave him a nod and followed the directions.

She tumbled into a pleasantly firm mattress, hauled the blankets up to her chin, and closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Harissa had no idea how late she slept, but she awoke feeling ravenous.

She took the time to clean up as best as she could, since she’d been far too tired upon her arrival.

She headed back down the tunnel, unsure what she should do. “Hello?”

“In here,” came the voice.

Harissa followed it into a kitchen.

“Good morning. Are you usually up this early?”

Harissa located a chrono on the wall and suddenly felt tired again. “No, but it’s been a long couple of days.”

“I’ll bet. How old are you? Seventeen?”

“Sixteen.”

He gave her a grim nod and set a platter down on the counter. “Didn’t know if you Jedi eat meat or not—”

Harissa stiffened.

Two people had already guessed her identity.  _ What are my tells? I have to get rid of them! _

“—or if maybe you’re against cooking things. So all of this is plant-based and not processed in any way. Is it okay to eat food prepared by non-Jedi?”

“What makes you think I’m Jedi?” she asked.

He wiped his hands on a towel and sent her a sympathetic look. “They’re looking for you.”

“Thought you were off the grid.”  
“All the more reason to pay attention to what’s going on. The instant our friend said you were being hunted, I realized where I’d seen your face before.”

“ _ Our friend _ ? Why not use his name?”  
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Do you know it?”  
“No.” 

“The less all of us know, the better.”  
“Reasonable.” Harissa lifted some sort of green stem from the plate and raised it to her host. “Thank you. It was kind of you to think about it. I’m not vegetarian, though some Jedi are.”  _ Were. Were, Harissa.  _ She took a bite, and found it crunchy and slightly bitter.

“Would it be horrible of me to confess that I am very relieved to hear that?”

 

* * *

 

“Guest! Would you mind checking the humidity in the greenhouse?”  
“Certainly, Host,” Harissa called back.

In the last week, she had learned the workings of several parts of the Betescan ’s home.

He let her hide here for free. She felt that the least she could do was make herself useful.

So far, he’d been allowing her to help.

She was close to forgetting that  _ Host  _ wasn’t his actual name, and that  _ Guest  _ wasn’t a normal one for herself.

She understood his caution, and respected his choice to keep their identities secret.

_ Though given I’m the only female Jedi that was on this planet, fifty percent of that ship has already sailed. _

Harissa breathed deeply, allowing the life in the indoor garden to caress her signature in the Force.  It wrapped around her, a calming murmur.

It stung a little, against the raw ache of loss that diseased her soul.

She tapped the gauge, adjusted a knob accordingly, and moved to the reactor room. The coolant tanks were functioning correctly, good; the function readouts were well within acceptable perimeters—

An explosion rocked the grating beneath her feet. “ _ Host _ ?”

She sprang for the door, only to have it slam shut and seal in her face.

The silent warning lights blinked near the floor.

A breach.

There wasn ’t a window in the door to see through, since from the outside, all of the rooms and hallways were camouflaged when sealed.

She heard the all-too-familiar sound of blasters—

She moved to the security panel and tapped in the code her host had provided.

Clones were pouring in the rock entrance.

She cycled through cams—

It didn ’t look like they’d found the garden exit or the backdoor—

But the young man who’d been kind to her—

Harissa pressed her knuckles to her lips as a storm of emotion assailed her, staring at the motionless form riddled with smoking wounds.

The clones didn’t even bother to move the corpse— they simply stepped over it and continued on through the facility, scanning to find its secrets.

Already, they were breaking their way through hidden doors.

There wasn’t a clear path to one of the exits.

Clones moved between here and there, talking on open comms.

_ If I take out one team, the others will know. _

And then they would  _ all  _ move in.

She had no idea how many lurked in the jungle above.

Shaking, horrifically alone, she slunk to the far corner of the room.

_ Hold on. Just hold on. _

Maybe they would miss her hiding place. There were plenty of  _ other  _ secrets for them to find.

She sat on the floor and drew up her knees, resting her forehead against them.

Carefully, as silently as she could, she began to work at her boot to free her lightsaber.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

An eternity passed as Harissa waited.

It finally reached a point where she couldn ’t stand not knowing what was going on.

She crept back to the security panel.

Most of the clones had pulled out and were on their way deeper into the jungle, moving very carefully to try to keep from falling.

_ What do they think they’re going to find? And how did they find us anyway? _

Eight men continued to ferret out rooms in the no-longer- _ safe _ house, clearing them with a single-minded hatred that rocked Harissa to her boots.

She  _ knew  _ that sense in the Force.

She ’d felt it aimed towards the droids who had killed their brothers a thousand times.

_ Now it’s aimed for _ me.

_ And I didn _ _ ’t even do anything. _

Eight men.

_Probably what’s left of two squads._

Thankful, so thankful she couldn’t recognize them, didn’t know these particular men—

_ Because you’re going to _ kill  _ them, Harissa,  _ a part of her accused.

She shivered.  _ Only to survive. If I could run, I  _ would—

They moved ever closer.

She thought of her contest with Skid’s squad a lifetime ago.

_ I cannot survive eight. _

Not at once.

Four hunted her end of the house, the other headed the other direction.

_ Four. _

She needed a surprise.

If she could take out the first one through the door, then hold the door from the other three—

She stifled her sigh.

The odds were terrible.

_ I have to convince them to stop hunting me, but that will only happen if I’m dead. _

She turned, eyed the reactor.

_ If I destroy the coolant system... I might have enough time to get out before it blows. And if they find my genetic material very close to the reactor, they might believe I was obliterated. _

_ Once it explodes, they’ll rush back here. I’ll need to be headed in a safe direction. _

That was a small window of jungle. Aiming for the open plains or the city would certainly not keep her  _ hidden  _ from the returning army.

_ The only thing that direction is Mestan. _

A very,  _ very  _ long way in that direction.

_ I’ll need a way to move faster than walking, and all the food and water I can carry. _

There were towns between here and there... and plenty of ice farms.

_ Maybe I can sleep in the barns during the day and run at night. _

As she waited for the clones, she mapped out exactly what she would need to take, where she could find each item, and worked out what order in which to procure them.

The task kept her mind busy as the seconds crept by.

And then they were inside her corridor.

She gripped her lightsaber tight and retreated to the side of the door, knowing she would need the wall’s shelter when they exploded it inwards.

_ If you hesitate, you die. _

_If you freeze up after killing one, you die._

_If you injure one, and he screams, and you glitch—_

_ You die _ .

Harissa took a deep breath.

_ I can’t do this. I can’t kill my boys’ brothers, even if they’re hunting me. _

Maybe it was better to just let them...

_ No. _

No, she was  _ not  _ giving in like this.

Pleft Yedra went down without a fight.

_ Thousands  _ of Jedi went down without a fight.

_ Enough is enough. If you want to murder another one of us, you’re going to have to  _ work  _ for it. _

The ridges of the hilt felt familiar beneath her gloves.

She felt the trembling in her hands.

_ Focus! This isn’t your first battle! _

But she  _ knew.  _ When she cut down one of these men, the blank eyes staring up in fear would be the same as Skid’s. Threetu’s. Keeli’s—

_ I need a mission. _

Her desperate mind latched onto the first thing it could find.

_ I’m the only one still alive who cares about what happened to Talee Artec. _

The thought of the tiny Twi’lek child, now all alone out there, despairing of rescue—

_ It might have killed my boys to do it, but if fighting their brothers was what it took to rescue an innocent child, they would do their duty. _

A Twi’lek.

Her Master and her boys had died fighting for the species’ homeworld.

_ That  _ was what she needed to focus on.

_ Not  _ who  _ I’m fighting, but who I’m fighting  _ for.

The changed parameters of her mission sent durasteel into her bones.

She heard the clanking as they located the door—

The soft sounds as they readied it—

She shielded her eyes against the light, and when the first clone moved into the room, she cut him from the crown of his helmet to the waist. Without waiting a second, she used the Force to yank the second into the room and through her lightsaber’s outstretched blade.

She heard one of the remainder calling into his bucket’s comlink—

She lunged out the door, deflecting blaster bolts into the body of one clone, and beheaded the next.

_ Four more. _

Who now  _ knew  _ they had a Jedi here.

She retreated to her security console and saw them racing for her position.

Seeing no better tactical options, she ran to meet them.

 

* * *

 

For a long moment Harissa stood still, trying to quiet her breathing, not quite believing she  _ hadn’t  _ died.

_ Pull it together, Nol. The others will expect an update. _

_If someone hasn’t already notified command._

And knowing clones, there was no way in  _ Kessel  _ they  _ hadn’t. _

She bolted into her plan.

The hiking bag.

The supplies.

The knife.

The carved boards with blades.

Back in the generator room, Harissa carefully cut her hand. Smearing blood on the reactor, she used the Force to drag the clone bodies closer—

And then she took her saber to the coolant system.

After that, it was a matter of  _ running. _

At the backdoor entrance she paused, knowing she would need to be able to move  _ fast. _

The seconds lost would be worth it.

She sat down and held one of the boards to the bottom of her foot.

Her host’s feet had been bigger, so she made sure to cinch the bindings tight over her boot.

Grateful,  _ so  _ grateful Host had taught her how to maneuver with them in the past week, Harissa strapped on the other and stood up.

Balancing on the thin blade on the bottom of either foot, Harissa strapped the pack to her back, making sure the straps across her chest and stomach dispersed the weight.

Now to  _ go. _

She took off in the only direction that might afford her protection.

 

* * *

 

It was hard to measure distances in a jungle.

All Harissa knew was that she was far enough away to  _ not  _ feel the blast, or see its light.

She  _ heard  _ it.

And she heard the shouts of the men whose pursuit suddenly turned to go in the other direction.

She crouched down, taking cover behind the white-covered foliage.  _ Pass me by. Pass me by. Pass me by. _

As soon as she could no longer sense presences in her immediate vicinity, she threw herself into her flight. The blades bit into ice and drove her forward at a speed she could never achieve while running.

Half terrified she’d crash, half terrified she wasn’t moving fast enough, Harissa fled.

 

* * *

 

It was mid-afternoon when she reached the far edge of the jungle. She drew out the small orientation device she’d seen Host use. It responded to the planet’s magnetic poles, and had allowed her to travel in a somewhat-straight line.

She squinted at the vast expanse of white.

_ Snow. _

Not deep enough to be much more than a light nuisance, but...

Impressionable enough to hold her tracks.

_ Now what? _

_ Shelter. I need shelter for the night. _

Instead of leaving the jungle, she backed a little ways into it again before she removed her blades. She raided her pack for the portable heating device, and her emergency supplies for the Jedi-issue thermal blanket. She made a cocoon out of the thin, shiny sheet, and cuddled the tiny heater to her chest to protect her core body temperature.

The ground felt hard and unyielding beneath her shoulder and hip, and she clutched her lightsaber close.

Humans were the apex predator on Betesca 6.

_ Thank the Force. _

At least the clones were the only killers out hunting her.

_ Them... and the cold. _

She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

Tomorrow...

Tomorrow the trek would begin.

She dreamed of clones, dead by her hand.

When she pulled their helmets off, she found Singe, Skid, and Sketch.

 

* * *

 

Harissa kept careful track of the days as she plodded along.

When possible, she walked in the footsteps of others, or paths made through the snow by wildlife.

Dehydration was her greatest enemy.

Whenever she hit a barn with livestock, she made sure to fill her canisters from the beasts’ troughs, and drink as much as she could hold.

Sometimes the animals leveled her baleful stares—

But most of the time they seemed willing to share, and not ready to try to draw the attention of their owners.

It didn’t take long to start thinking of them as allies.

_ Their future is slaughter. Just like mine. _

The pace seemed terribly slow.

The only time she felt like she was making real progress was inside the various patches of jungle that spattered the countryside. Strapping on the blades, she would fly through them, so many times faster than she could walk.

The journey darkened when she began to run out of food.

She was aware of a few edible forest plants, but her host hadn’t had time to teach her how to catch the wildlife.

That day, hiding in a nook she built for herself among bales of some sort of fluffy grass, Harissa closed her eyes and shivered.

Not from cold. The hay was a remarkable insulator, and her clothes, though they’d become well-worn, were  _ good. _

Scavenging Host’s equipment and food hadn’t felt like stealing.

Taking the water from the barns she took shelter in hadn’t felt like stealing either.

But food...

Through a crack between two bales, Harissa eyed the clucking avians, scratching for seeds in the loose straw and dirt on the floor.

Her stomach ached.

She’d been eating only as much as she absolutely needed.

Less, the last couple of days.

_ It’s _ survival,  _ Harissa,  _ she reminded herself _ . _

_ But  _ kids  _ live here. I saw the toys. What if they’ve  _ named  _ these birds? What if they love them? _

Harissa buried her face in her drawn-up knees and blinked back tears.

_ I can’t just ask.  _

The host’s smiling face came to mind.

_ People who help me are automatically in danger. _

So she ignored the hunger, ignored the ache in her bones, and willed herself to sleep.

 

* * *

 

The next day she slept in the jungle, and by the time she reached her next barn, the hunger had become something desperate.

_I won’t make it to Mestan unless I steal._

The realization sent a shudder through her soul.

_ I killed those clones. I walked away from the corpse of a man who was kind to me when he didn’t have to be, and blew up his house. _

_And now I’m a thief._

The urge to leave credits behind, lined up on a stall door was almost overwhelming.

_But I_ _ ’m going to need them to get off-planet. _

She thought of all the Jedi who had invested in her future throughout her life.

_They taught me to be strategic. To think of a plan. To figure out what needed to be done._

_Did they ever think it would come to this? I’m a murderer. And a thief._

_And one of the last of my kind._

She filled her emergency containers with grains and hoped that the next farm had very small livestock of some kind.

_ I’m sorry,  _ she thought as she looked to the farmhouse on her way out.  _ May the Force be with you. _

 

* * *

 

The night she found a town, she wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t a hallucination.

She used the following hours to explore and discovered it was a stopping point for public transports.

The relief the knowledge sent her felt like a breath of hope.

_ If I’m careful, I could work my way to Mestan. _

She hid for the daylight hours and then crept close to the final departure that evening.

As it rumbled to life, the junction deserted for the night, Harissa crawled her way up the back and onto the roof. Settling herself behind some of the luggage to try to break the wind, Harissa hooked her arms through the storage-accommodating rails.

The vibration shaking her very bones made for a teeth-clenched journey, and the constant noise assailed her ears.

She tried to allow her mind to wander to distract herself from the discomfort, but her brain only seemed able to run back to subjects that made it  _ worse. _

The emptiness in the back of her skull.

Memories of people now dead.

Thoughts of the men she’d killed.

She’d never killed before. Ever.

_ Master Yoda would want me working with a Minder. _

That was likely a luxury she could never indulge in again.

_ And for once... I’d actually want to go. _

When she could see lights for another town in the distance, Harissa worked her way off the back of the conveyance.

She tried to use the Force to cushion her fall, and made sure to roll through the snowdrift—

_ That didn’t hurt as much as I was expecting it to. _

She had a few hours left before the first sun’s dawn to reach the settlement and find somewhere to hide for the day.

_ And figure out when the next transport leaves. _

All she wanted to do was crash in this soft snow drift and  _ sleep. _

_ Not yet. Need to keep moving. Soon, Harissa. _

It became a mantra as she transitioned into the new routine.

And then, one bleak midnight nearly three months after Yedra’s death, she straggled into the cold, uncaring city of Mestan.

 

* * *

 

“No.” The woman turned away, and Harissa heard the finality in her answer.

But the padawan couldn’t give up quite yet. It had taken her three nights to decide on  _ this  _ ship and  _ this  _ pilot. She resisted the urge to adjust the scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. “Why?”  
“Not worth the price you’re offering.”

_ I was right to hold back that first time. _

She edged a bit higher.

But all of her finagling got her nowhere.

And... her pilot proved unmoved by a covert Force suggestion.

Frustrated, Harissa played her final card. “I have computer spikes.”

“I have no use for them. Sorry, kid.”

And with that, the woman walked away.

_ It’s alright,  _ Harissa promised herself.  _ Just find another one. You managed to walk and hitchhike from one hemisphere to the other. _

Stifling a weary sigh, Harissa turned away.

“Excuse me.”

Wary, Harissa turned around to find the bipedal droid who worked with her no-longer-pilot-of-choice.

“I have no interest in credits, but we might be able to make a deal for the spikes.”  
Harissa stared at him. “She’s never going to allow it.”

“She won’t know. I am in charge of inventory and the loading and unloading of cargo. She only handles the business and flying aspects. I can easily hide you with the crates.”

“How do I know you won’t turn me in so she can space the stowaway?”

“It would not be possible for an organic to hide aboard my ship without my knowledge. She would know I knew before takeoff. She would also remember your offer of computer spikes. Neither option is in my best interests, just as discovery by her would not be in yours.”

“This secret reason you want the spikes. It’s not going to include crashing the ship or compromising life-support systems?”

“No.”

_ Not that I can trust you. _

Harissa bit her lip beneath the scarf.

_ But if I go with another ship, they  _ will  _ want credits. _

So she gave the durasteel creature a nod. “Alright. You can have my two spikes for safe passage to Toola. I’ll give you one now, and the other when we reach Kaela.”

“That is acceptable.”

Before long, Harissa found herself tucked away between heavy metal boxes.

_ Soon, I’ll leave Betesca Six behind. Hopefully forever. _

Ahead? Hopefully Kai Hudorra.

Harissa closed her eyes and considered her memory of the holomaps.

Three systems formed a triangle in this small area of space.

Betesca, Kaelta, and Lereta.

Lereta was home to Niwex, where the trail for Talee Artec had gone cold.

_ Not that she’s still on-planet. Highly unlikely. _

_Can’t think about that right now. I need to focus on how I’ll find Master Hudorra._

She fingered two of the three computer spikes still in her pocket, brushing over the one she still owed the droid.

Two chances.

It would have been one thing to use one in Mestan, where there had been no visible clone presence.

_Who knows what I’ll find in Kaela._

Searching for another Jedi  _ that  _ way seemed asking for trouble.

_ The clones will know what to look for. And they’re likely still searching for two Jedi on Toola... if they haven’t been caught already. _

Harissa hadn’t heard anything about that...

Then again, she hadn’t exactly been talkative with the locals.

The hyperspace jump proved to be almost amusingly short, and Harissa braced herself as the ship landed.  _ Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me. _

The droid kept his end of the deal, received his other spike, and Harissa melted into the cover of the city.

Harissa found the planet Toola to be  _ another  _ frigid world.  _ At least I have the clothes for it. _

The population was quite a bit more varied than the human-centric Betesca 6.

Kaela looked like someone had taken a million prefabs and stacked them on top of one another, and as close together as possible. It had none of the beautiful stonework and architectural continuity that she’d grown accustomed to on Betesca 6.

_ First things first. _

_Complete my transformation._

She located an alley and a couple massive trash bins.

In the small gap between them, she pulled out her emergency supplies again.

She finger-combed her hair, trying to remove the snarls she’d allowed to accumulate.

It hadn’t seemed all that important, when she was trying to walk around a planet.

Now she wished she’d paid more attention to it.

She  _ was  _ grateful for its filling out, hiding the fact half had been shaved, and also hiding the tattoos on her scalp.

Once the tangles had been cleared, she worked the hair powder in, feeling the natural kinks submit to the transformation.

She held up the tiny mirror and saw it falling in straight compliance around her face.

_ Really  _ dirty...

But completely different from her normal look.

She winced at how disgusting her hands felt now and tried to be rid of the sensation with the snow.

That ended up being a futile effort, the white mini drift proving to be hard as ice.

_ I need to change the profile more. _

Left to herself, she would inevitably tie the long length of hair back...

_ Leaving me looking very similar to the way I did before. _

So, seizing the small vibrorazor, she shrugged, thought,  _ here goes nothing,  _ and attacked her hair.

When she’d finished, it was mostly even, if you squinted and tilted your head.

Chopped off at chin length, it hung near her face, helping to obscure her jawline.

She didn’t give herself bangs, deciding that being able to draw the front locks over her eyes might be useful.  
_ Now. _

She broke into the dye packet and made sure to rub it into all exposed skin, and skin that might end up visible. Every step of the way she checked with the mirror to make sure she didn’t miss any spots.

Now, a few shades darker, with a new hairstyle and purple eyes, Harissa considered her reflection.

_ Better. _

_ Now. How to find Kai Hudorra. _

She replaced her belongings, handling them with the utmost care.

_ They’re mine now. _

She hadn’t really thought about it before, but...

_ They’re not to be returned to the Temple anymore. _

_ I own them. _

She would trade that ownership for  _ life  _ to return to those it had been stolen from, any day.

Pulling her hood up to protect against the cold, Harissa leaned her head back against the dingy wall.

She didn’t look forward to reaching out to the Force again, to feel that horrid emptiness. It was much easier to keep herself cut off.

_ But I have a whole city and no leads. _

_ Scratch that. I have a whole  _ planet,  _ and no leads. _

Harissa had no idea where the army had been stationed when...  _ it...  _ had happened.

So she closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and took the plunge.

She didn’t know Hudorra, or the padawan with him.

But she knew light when she saw it.

So she searched for light.

What she found was darkness.

Not the overwhelming shadow across the galaxy—

But a  _ person. _

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

Harissa yanked away from the filthy sensation in the Force, her heart thundering.

_ What  _ was  _ that _ ?

Dooku was  _ dead _ , and Ventress no longer a problem, according to reports, so  _ who— _

Something felt strange.

Harissa peered around her shelter and found a Twi ’lek child staring at her.

And then the girl was gone.

A  _ new  _ jolt stole Harissa’s body.

She lunged up and down the alley, headed for the street—

_ Gray-blue. _

Not a common color.

_ And young. Very young. _

_ And  _ on a planet just a system over from where Yedra’s youngling had gone missing.

At the end of her alley she stared around at the crowds,  _ trying  _ to see—

_ Where are you? _

She stretched out to the Force again, trying to  _ find  _ her—

If she had been Jedi, there should be  _ something,  _ right—?

She pushed her way through the crowd, desperate to re-find the child, if only to prove she  _ wasn’t _ Talee.

She had just a flicker of warning before she saw blue and every nerve in her body burst into flame.

She turned, even as she fell, and saw familiar white armor.

Panic was the last thing she felt before unconsciousness claimed her.

 

* * *

 

A strange crackling noise seemed to hum all around Harissa.

She was upright, but it didn ’t feel like she was  _ standing... _

Dragging her heavy eyelids open, Harissa discovered the world had just a slight blue cast.

The world being a small, dark room, with grating for a floor.

The only light source seemed to come from the restraining field that held her, and another one beside hers.

Experiments led to the discovery that the only movement allowed her was her head and neck.

“I would say welcome, but I’m sorry to see you here.”

Harissa squinted to inspect the occupant of the other field.

A human-looking male, probably in his mid-to-late twenties, though it was hard to tell with his face averted.

His skin a beautiful olive, his hair as black as her own, and just as dirty.

Also longer, likely striking his shoulder blades, when his head wasn’t bent forward.

“Who are you?” Harissa tried to still the building fear.

_Why didn’t the clones kill me? What could they possibly want?_

“I am Tared Kel, Jedi Knight.”

A stab of relief.

_Thank the Force. Surely you’re already working on a plan to get us out of here._

“Why are you hiding your face?”

“Hm. And you? Who are you? You’re one of the two unaccounted for padawans in this area of space.”

Harissa’s eyes narrowed. “How about you show me your face first.”

“You don’t want to see it.”

“Yeah. I do.” Harissa put as much durasteel into her tone as she could muster. “For all I know, you’re just pretending to be a Jedi.”

He turned his head, a slow movement, as if to give her time to adjust to what her eyes were seeing. To soften the shock as much as he could.

The first thing Harissa noticed were the eyes.

Weary, but piercingly determined. A striking green.

At least...

One was green. The other was a bloody red, and couldn’t seem to stay focused on her face, but strayed away instead.

_ Human eyes aren’t supposed to move independently,  _ was her uneasy thought.

There was a perfectly straight burn mark along the side of his head.

She recognized the wound from the holos they made young Jedi face in the Temple before they were allowed to hold a lightsaber switched to full power. She’d tried to rid herself of those images for years, now.

They had certainly quieted the edge of her enthusiasm when she built her lightsaber, and lent a caution to her eager, young fingers.

Many a disaster had been avoided by impressing upon young minds how necessary safety was.

Someone had held a lightsaber close to this man’s face, just far enough away to keep from cutting him, close enough to bubble and deform the skin.

And damage an eye, apparently.

The oozing saber wound might be the loudest feature on his face, but Harissa’s attention found the deep furrows of pain and grief in the forehead next.

Yes.

He was somewhere in his twenties.

But as far as experience went, he was decades older.

There were other injuries plowed into his skin; bright red, angry tears. Some looked infected while others appeared to have just stopped bleeding. Harissa could see shadows across his skin, the poor lighting obscuring the bruises that marred flesh.

He looked like he’d come straight off the front lines of battle before seeing a medic.

_ Only the war is over. _

Her gaze drifted lower, noting the odd angle of his left knee, and the cuts through his tunic’s back. The bloody and burned criss-crossing had to be from an electrowhip. His forearms bore lightsaber burns, and the fingers of his right hand were crushed and crusted with dried blood.

Instead of being held in the restraining field in a neutral position like Harissa herself, his feet were well apart, and his arms twisted up and out in a position that had to be slowly pulling his shoulders out of joint.

_ You were trying to protect me. _

That alone proved his claim to Harissa’s mind.

Sobered, and trying to ignore the tremble that assailed her hand, Harissa reached out with the Force.

Yes.

She could feel his presence. Full of pain, grief, determination.

His eyes had n ’t lied. In the Force, he seemed to be a serene blaze of light.

“Why go to these lengths, if I wasn’t a Jedi?”

_ Oh Force. Oh Force. _

_What will they do to me?_

Shame flooded her soul at the thought.

_ He _ _ ’s been brutalized, and my first thought is about _ me _ ? _

_Is that really who I am?_

“What do they want?” Harissa forced herself to look at his  _ eyes,  _ not his injuries.

A tiny flicker of a smile tugged at the man’s lip. “They think I know where to find Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Do you?” she blurted in a whisper.

He laughed. The sound was soft, gentle, and genuine. “Why do you think they put you in here instead of isolating you? They think I might tell you the answer to that. We’re being watched and listened to, no doubt.”

_ That... made very little sense. _

“Obviously you know  _ something.  _ If you  _ don’t _ know, you would just say so, and—”

“That doesn’t necessarily follow.”  
Harissa frowned. “That they would believe you?”  _ Of course they wouldn’t. _

“That if I don ’t know, I would admit it,” he clarified.

And that made even  _ less  _ sense.

“But if they think you know, they’ll keep torturing you.”

He squinted, clearly bothered by the wounded eye. “And keep wasting time and spinning drives.”

“But if they  _ are  _ actually listening to us, won’t they know you’re just buying time?”

A brilliant smile proceeded his answer. “Buying time or claiming to?”

Harissa stared at him in open disbelief.

“You’re goading them,” she hissed.  
“Yes.”

She could find no hint of hesitation or shame in his voice.

A chill ran between her shoulder blades. Had her captors locked her in a room with a man driven insane by pain and grief? Who had snapped on some deep, unreachable level?

Hoping her new worry remained well-hid, she bit out, “ Why?”

“I have nothing to lose,” he murmured, his sense in the Force still gentle, as if trying to relieve her fear.

The fear he wasn ’t supposed to know she had.

“You have all  _ sorts  _ of things to lose—”

He gave her another quiet smile and added a small shake of his head. “Now. Your end of the bargain. My captor came here specifically to catch a missing master and two padawans. Since he has you, he knows which one you are. If they know your name, may I?”

“Harissa Nol. Padawan.”

“It’s good to meet you, Harissa Nol, Padawan.” He inclined his head. “There is one question I have. Why didn’t they kill you on sight? He’s not here to recruit. He must want something from you.”

Harissa shook her head, feeling miserable. “I have no idea. When did you ship out here? We didn’t receive intel—”

“I wasn’t captured here. No, I was caught elsewhere, then dragged along.”

“You keep saying  _ he.  _ Who is—”

The cell door slid open to reveal four clone troopers.

 

* * *

 

Harissa would have thought boredom impossible.

But she’d been kneeling on the beautiful carpeting for what felt like an  _ eternity  _ now.

There was a chrono on the wall, but to see it, she had to look over her shoulder.

And whenever she so much as  _ squirmed,  _ one of the clones— standing behind her like specters— gave her a shock that made the world white out and her lungs falter.

She stared at the red and gold carpet, finally feeling the floor underneath it in her kneecaps.

This building definitely  _ was not _ a military installation.

Nor was it a usual building in Kaela, from what Harissa had seen of the city so far.

_ Rich people. _

She wondered if they were housing the clones and whoever  _ he  _ was voluntarily...

Or  _ less _ enthusiastically.

She heard a muffled footfall, and felt that putrid stench in the Force again.

Gritting her teeth, she refused to look around.

“Padawan Harissa Nol.”

_ You must be the  _ he  _ Tared talked about. _

The owner of the voice walked around her and stepped into view.

Harissa discovered short dark hair, blue eyes, pronounced cheekbones, and skin that looked like it never saw the light of day.

Apparently a male human, he wore a dark uniform with armor that complimented his well-muscled form.

“I must thank you for making my job just a bit easier,” he offered with a smile, his words clipped with a Core Worlds accent. “I thought for sure that once I was finished here I would have to travel to Betesca as well. Most kind of you to come to me.”

Harissa’s lip curled. “I didn't come for  _ you _ .” 

“No, of course not. You were seeking out my other targets, weren’t you. Three Jedi, all missing in the same basic vicinity. Did you really think the Empire wouldn’t send someone?”

“Who are you?”

“The voice of the Emperor in this room, Miss Nol, and that’s all that matters.”

Harissa allowed her sneer to deepen. “So how come I’ve never heard of you before?”

He laughed, low and musical.

“Poor dear,” he mocked. “So certain knowledge will  _ help. _ Rest easy.  _ You  _ aren’t the one with information I want.”

He looked past her and sent a nod.

Harissa sensed a great flare of pain from Tared, and long seconds later she heard the sound of something being dragged into the room.

The darkly dressed man moved to the head of the intricately carved table, drew out an equally fancy chair, and sat, crossing one knee over the other. “Just bring him in. Beside the young lady, if you please.”  
Harissa risked a quick turn of her head and saw Tared, eyes glassy, hauled along by two troopers. One foot tried to scrabble for purchase to ease the weight of his body hanging from his shoulders, but the clones walked too quickly.

They dropped him beside Harissa, then jabbed him with their blasters until he was kneeling.

For long moments he simply breathed, struggling to cope with the agony of his injured knee.

“Since you have proven to to be impolite, I thought it might be worth a reminder that your life  _ is  _ mine to do with as I see fit.” The man gestured, and clicks announced the fact that blasters now aimed for the back of Harissa’s head.

She grit her teeth, breathing quickening in spite of herself.

_ Oh, Force— _

She squeezed her eyes shut.

_ Like  _ this _ ? Not in battle, not helping someone, like  _ this _ ? _

“Oh, look at that. And I didn’t even have to say  _ ready, aim. _ Cuts down on the drama, don’t you think? I can’t help but be of the opinion that is a very good thing. It  _ is  _ a pity we’ll stain our host’s carpet. I don’t think he’s going to appreciate it very much—”

Harissa sensed the fingers caressing triggers, just waiting to flinch.

_ No, please—!  _ her mind begged, but she kept her lips clamped resolutely closed.

“It will make future interrogation of me pointless.” Tared offered, sounding almost careless.

Harissa could hear the smile in the dark one’s voice. “Isn’t that quaint. And you think that would be— what? An incentive for me to let her live? She lives, you don’t talk, she dies, you don’t talk? This has nothing to do with convincing you to talk. No. When I secure one of the  _ other  _ two of my targets,  _ then  _ we can discuss their potential survival.”

And then Harissa felt a breath of a whisper against her shoulder. “Don’t tell him, alright? Just... endure. I’m sorry. Perhaps it’s better this way.”

_ What? Tell him  _ what _ ? _

The chair rubbed against carpet as the man stood up.

“I sense... desperation in you, my dear Tared. And you are, yes, I do believe  _ smug  _ is the right word _ .  _ Curious. What could you possibly gain by her death?”

Tared glared up at him. “What are you talking about? She’s just a padawan you came to hunt down.”

“Is she really.” The dark one’s tone turned wry. “You love to spread confusion and cast smoke amongst the mirrors. Yet now, you speak  _ plainly _ ?” He turned, fixed Harissa with a stare. “So, Miss Nol, what is it that you  _ know _ ?”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t know  _ anything _ . What is it you think I know?”

“Come to think of it,” the man purred, walking around to stand behind them, “You certainly weren’t  _ displeased  _ to travel this direction.”

“One place is as good as any, when you’re being tortured.”

“Hmm. And why would a padawan, in theory seeking out Kai Hudorra, be found in Kaela? The  _ other  _ side of the planet from where he was last seen, as far as the public knows? Only Imperials and you yourself knew we were pursuing new intel.”

“When would I  _ ever  _ have had a chance to send a message out?”

“Very good question. The better question would be why would you  _ bother. _ ”

“You’re right, there was no reason for me to bother.”

A sinister laugh, still musical, chilled Harissa’s spirit. “Ah, Tared. Finally, you make a mistake.”

Tared turned his head and sent Harissa a torn glance. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

_ What is happening? _

Clones dragged Tared from the room, and Harissa found herself strapped into one of the dining chairs.

“Let’s talk about your master, shall we?” the man purred.

She glared up at him. “How about you tell me what you are first?”  
“ _ What _ ? Not  _ who _ ? Interesting choice of words, my dear, but I can play. I am an Inquisitor. Now your turn.”

“You  _ killed  _ my master. You and your  _ pawns. _ ”

The Inquisitor snapped his fingers. “You know, I forgot all about that.”

He drew a small holodisc from his belt and activated it.

Harissa flinched as she saw Yedra speaking to a tiny holo of herself.

Saw Blast turn away to give instructions—

_ No. Not to give them. He’s listening. _

_He’s being told to kill us, isn’t he?_

She breathed through her nose with great care and dug her fingernails into the wood of the armrests.

Yedra fell, that look of confusion on his face—

_ Kark. _

“It wasn’t this master I was talking about,” the Inquisitor offered, off-hand. He set the recording down on the table even as it started through again, playing on a loop.

Gritting her teeth, Harissa forced herself to look away and keep the Inquisitor’s face in her line of sight instead.

“I want to know about your  _ new  _ master. The one you came here to meet.” 

“I didn’t  _ find  _ Hudorra. I didn’t even have a chance to  _ look— _ ”

“You were searching for another Force-sensitive in  _ this city.  _ How did you know to look here?”

“I  _ wasn’t _ —”

He arched his eyebrows. “Really, darling? How do you think  _ I  _ found  _ you _ ? You lit up the Force with that adorable  _ here I am, come find me _ signal not two blocks away from our current residence.”

“Wish I’d known that at the time,” she growled.

“Feisty. So feisty.” His voice sounded soothing. “It’s alright. I know you were bringing Master Kel information.”

And then he was in her face.

Harissa’s instinctive recoil nearly sent her chair over backwards, but the Inquisitor caught it, keeping it just shy of falling.

“Kel seems to want me to think  _ he  _ has the information about where Kenobi is hiding, but it seems to me he would only do that to  _ protect  _ someone. Perhaps the padawan who was supposed to meet with him.  _ You  _ are the one who knows Kenobi’s whereabouts, aren’t you. Clever little girl. And to think I almost lost my informant while returning to a well that doesn’t have what I want.”

Harissa’s heart thundered in her ears. “What makes you think he’s even  _ alive _ ?”

“Oh, he’s alive. And Lord Vader is very keen to find him. If I find him  _ before  _ Vader, the Emperor himself will have to take notice.”

“Why would  _ Palpatine  _ care?” Harissa spat.

His amused chuckle stripped away the last of Harissa’s defenses against the fear.

_ What is it? What about Palpatine? Why is this funny? _

And who the  _ Kessel  _ was Lord Vader?

“You really do know nothing, don’t you,” he whispered, tipping the chair farther back.

Harissa’s head snapped forward and her feet tried to find purchase against the floor.

“Have you ever met Master Kenobi?”  
“No!”

“I know he was on Ryloth the same time you arrived.”

So this barve had access to war records?  _ Of course he does. _

Fine.

“I was with the men. He spoke only with Master Di.”  
“So the question you have to ask yourself is this: are you willing to have yet  _ another  _ master of yours suffering and dying at your hand for the sake of someone you’ve never even met?”

“ _ What _ ?” Harissa struggled to breathe normally, to not flail against the off-balanced chair.

“I know how many masters you’ve lost, my dear. Enough to make me wonder if you weren’t somehow doing it intentionally. I’m surprised they didn’t investigate you for homicide.”

“You don’t know what you’re  _ talking  _ about—”

“Oh, but I do. Wenna Ziex. Heart failure. Jezui Yid. Speeder accident. Onna Tatta. Operation Knightfall. Lela Astar. Knife. Yema Ugani. Blaster fire. Malli Kehayu. Zema Syndrome. Pleft Yedra. Order Sixty-Six.”

_ He knows everything about me. _

Harissa stared up at him in horror.

_ Knightfall? Order Sixty-Six? _

But Onna would  _ never  _ have left her younglings—

_ Master Kenobi warned us away from the Temple— _

“What did you do to the younglings?” she snarled. If they were locked up, somewhere—

The Inquisitor returned the two airborne feet of the chair to the floor.

He took a few steps back out of her personal space and leaned forward, planting his hands on his knees. “You haven’t heard yet?”

She hated how compassionate he sounded.

“I’m afraid Lord Vader—”

That  _ name  _ again—

“—No, no. I can’t tell you that. You’re little more than a child yourself. Wouldn’t want to give you bad dreams.”

Harissa lunged against her restraints, cold fury flooding her system. “ _ What did he do to them— _ ”

“He did to them what I’m going to do to your beloved Master Rel if you don’t tell me where I can find Kenobi.”

“You’re  _ lying _ !” she shrieked at him. “You  _ stole  _ them, to twist them to your own purposes—”

A speculative look crossed his face. “That’s actually a good idea; a shame nobody thought of it at the time. Oh, well.” He shrugged.

“You’re  _ wrong—  _ you’re trying to mess with my head—!”

He smiled as he said, “Sweetheart, I wish I could take that kind of credit, but I’m afraid this one is simply fact. So. That list I gave you. Should we put Tared on it? And how should it run? Tared Rel, torture? Or Tared Rel, sacrifice? Tared Rel,  _ betrayed. _ ”

“I can’t  _ tell  _ you anything if I don’t  _ know  _ anything—”

The blow of his fist took her completely by surprise, splitting the skin along her cheekbone.

Harissa gasped, as stunned tears blinded her.

She’d never been struck outside of a fight before. Ever.

Between the shock of it and the memory of tiny faces smiling up at her, tiny hands gripping her fingers—

She would  _ not  _ cry—

But first one drop, then another escaped.

Humiliation scalded her soul.

“Where is Kenobi?” he repeated.

“ _ I _ ! _ Don’t _ !  _ Know! _ ” Her voice broke.

He raised his hand and she jolted, eyes squinting and blinking furiously, but he didn’t strike her.

“You are  _ insane _ !” she railed at him. “You killed  _ children  _ and convinced soldiers to  _ kill  _ their superior officers—”

“That wasn’t hard. They were just waiting for the opportunity to strike.”

“You’re  _ crazy— _ ”

“And you, repetitive.”

“—I knew men who would  _ never  _ have betrayed me—”

“Would that be Ima-Gun Di’s battalion? Yes. I thought so. Let me break you the news, my dear. They would have slain your master and come for you too.”

“You’re lying.”

Force  _ damn  _ it, she basically  _ sobbed  _ the words.

_ I am stronger than this. I am a  _ Jedi—

He hit her again, this time between the eyes.

Pain stabbed into her brain and fire raced down her neck.

“Leave me  _ alone _ !”

But instead, his fist made contact again.

And again.

And again.

“ _ Stop, _ ” she groaned. “I don ’t  _ know.  _ I  _ can’t _ tell you. Just  _ stop— _ ”

Horror pierced through the overwhelming pain of both body and mind.

It was swift followed by disgust.

_ Jedi don _ _ ’t cry under torture. _

_ This is weak. Pathetic. _

And Jedi  _ certainly  _ didn ’t ask for reprieve—

“I don’t know  _ anything  _ about Master Kenobi,” she said, enunciating very clearly around a split and rapidly swelling lip, “but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

There.

_ Now  _ she was back on the right track.

_ No matter what he tries to— _

He chuckled, an almost kind and pitying look in his eyes. “Oh, but I think you would, Miss Nol. It makes me wonder if I’m wrong and you’re telling the truth. It’s written all over you. If you knew, you would tell me.”

“No, I  _ wouldn’t! _ ” she insisted, too humiliated to care if it was an unwise thing to say.

“There is no point in me torturing you further.” The Inquisitor stepped back, a sneer on his face. “All I ’d receive is more sniffling and mucus— you  _ do  _ realize your nose is running all over, don’t you— and whimpers for mercy.”

“I  _ never  _ asked for  _ mercy— _ ”

“Yes you did.” He sent her a brilliant smile. “It’s alright to be afraid, Miss Nol. It’s wise. Fear has always been something you could rely upon. Isn’t that right? Now, return to your master, and decide if his life means less than Kenobi’s.”

Troopers moved in, freeing her from the chair only to haul her down the hall at a clip specially designed to keep her from actually  _ walking. _

It wasn’t long before she was locked in her neutral, upright position in her restraining field once more.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

As soon as the clones left them alone, Harissa turned a baleful glare on her companion. “What in Kessel is  _ wrong  _ with you? They think I  _ know  _ something!”

She wasn’t expecting the torment she discovered in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “He was going to kill you. It’s so hard to break out of the belief that while life lasts, there is hope.”

Harissa felt her fury freeze and form shatter lines.  _ It  _ was  _ very Jedi of him. Provide Lord Inquisitor a reason to keep me alive until we can find a way to escape. _

Because that was  _ another  _ part of being a Jedi.

_ We always escape. _

She held on to the words even as she felt the overwhelming weight of their lie.

_ Wait. _

If Tared  _ wasn’t _ the knight the Inquisitor thought him—

And Harissa wasn’t the Padawan who set out to meet with said knight—

_ Then they’re out there somewhere. _

_ As long as the maniac  _ thinks  _ he has them... _

_ Maybe  _ they  _ can escape, the way I wasn’t able to. _

_ You don _ _ ’t search for what you already have. _

Tared wasn’t finished speaking. “For the last half-hour I’ve been wondering if I just should have kept my mouth shut.”

“It ’s okay,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to hold at a louder volume. “But now he suspects. I didn’t tell him anything. We’re good for now.”

Tared’s eyes widened.

Harissa hoped that meant he recognized what she was doing.

She felt the trembling all through her body.

The beating had been so  _ difficult  _ to endure— and what if the Inquisitor decided to test her the way he’d assailed Tared?

_ You are a Jedi,  _ she schooled herself,  _ you can take  _ anything _ . _

 

* * *

 

Hours passed, most of them in silence.

Tared ’s pain had become a steady throb in a corner of Harissa’s own aching head.

The constant low-level pain was almost harder for him to bear than the acute blow of a lightsaber.

And with the aches through her own neck and shoulders...

She almost agreed.

With every heartbeat she wished she could block out Tared’s suffering, and each time, she felt both sympathy and dread.

It just wouldn’t end, wouldn’t give him a break.

_ How soon before I’m there too? _

_How stupid am I? To pretend I have information that they want to beat out of me?_

_But it’s not like they would believe my innocence... right? They’ll beat me anyway?_

She tried to sleep, her body telling her it was night outside.

She managed to doze off a few times, only to startle awake within minutes each time.

_ Just hold out until the morning. _

Except that morning wouldn’t bring relief.

What morning  _ did  _ bring was another trip to the dining hall.

When Harissa stumbled into the room, she felt shock flood her system.

At the head of the table sat a massive Ortolan, and a mountain of food spread out on tiered platters like decorations nearly hid him from view.

He stared at her, Tared, and the troopers just as shocked as the Padawan.

Harissa’s gaze darted from him to the servant girl standing behind him, holding a pitcher.

The Padawan’s heart stopped cold.

_ You. _

Undoubtedly the Twi’lek she’d seen yesterday—

The little face was lined and had lost its sparkle—

But there was no mistaking her.

_ I found you. _

Harissa  _ wanted  _ to feel triumphant, but—

_If the Inquisitor hasn’t discovered her yet..._

Resolve steeled her heart.

_ I am  _ not  _ going to bring attention to her. _

So Harissa allowed her eyes to drift away, back to the food.

That was a mistake.

The Inquisitor lounged into the room, a lazy smile on his face.

Harissa’s stomach growled loudly and their torturer sent her a wink in response.

“ _ Excuse  _ me, Lord Inquisitor, but I’m having  _ breakfast—! _ ”

The Inquisitor turned to him and waved a hand. “Oh, don’t mind us. We won’t be a bother. You have been such a gracious host, it would be a shame to have to find a new master for this fine establishment.”

The blue creature opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it.

_ Unwilling. _

The scents that accosted Harissa’s nose physically  _ hurt. _

_This is why you brought us here at mealtime._

Harissa forced her eyes away from the food, choosing the back wall instead. She followed the spirals of rich brown through the cream, tried to count how many times the pattern repeated—

Harissa tried to block everything out as she and Tared were forced to their knees—

As the Inquisitor offered food, water—

As she saw Tared swallow hard, but retain his calm.

She couldn't focus on the fact that they knelt like  _ slaves  _ before this  _ scum— _

A silent plea for mercy—

She stole a glance at Tared, but found no sign of shame in his face or posture. He somehow maintained an aura of nobility, in spite of the pain that throbbed through his body.

Apparently, the position made no difference. His confidence in his identity and his calm were too deep to be broken by something done  _ to  _ him.

For a moment, Harissa saw Ima-Gun kneeling beside her.

She swallowed hard and looked away.

“Alright. Here’s an idea: why don’t I say all of your lines, so we can be spared the tedium of hearing you two struggle through them? Sound fun? I thought so.  _ Master, he wants me to give up information to save you; what should I do? _ ”

Harissa winced at the high-pitched whine.

“Don’t talk, Padawan. Jedi don’t talk.  _ But Master, we need to survive. If we buy ourselves time now, we can escape and warn Master Kenobi.  _ Padawan, Jedi pride insists we not break under torture. It’s without honor.  _ But Master, you always taught me to put  _ people  _ before our personal honor— _ I didn’t mean  _ this,  _ Padawan. I am happy to suffer for what’s right, it makes me look very good and strong.  _ Master Kenobi can take care of himself. We can’t. He would turn himself in for us. How is this different? It’s what he would do for us willingly if he knew.  _ This isn’t about what Master Kenobi wants, young one, it’s about never, ever looking less than perfect and strong.”

The Inquisitor spread his hands and laughed. “Wasn’t that enjoyable? And  _ so  _ much quicker than if you’d done it. I swear, the time you people waste with little whimpers and  _ thinking  _ before speaking is ridiculous. Okay. Let’s get down to it, shall we?”  
A flick of his fingers resulted in Tared bowing forward, head almost touching the floor as he struggled to endure the electricity that surged up from his stun-cuffs.

For a second the trooper let up— the Jedi gasped in what air he could _ —  _ and then they triggered it again.

Harissa closed her eyes and turned her head away, wincing at the loud exhale that escaped Tared.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. A familiar, terrible ache tore through her mind.

Fear.

Fear for Tared, who didn’t protest, didn’t ask for leniency—

For Talee, found but out of Harissa’s ability to help, scant meters away from a man who would think nothing of killing her—

And fear for herself.

She heard the crackle of electricity cease, heard the solid thump of a fist striking hard.

Her eyes flew open to find the Inquisitor, crouched in front of Tared.

Again he struck the other man.

Tared drew in a sharp breath, then another—

Harissa shivered,  _ horrified  _ by the part of herself that felt  _ relieved  _ the Inquisitor wasn’t hitting  _ her _ .

But Tared seemed like such a perfect example of what a Jedi was supposed to be under torture—

_And I’m not that person._

A familiar stinging in her eyes made her mind scream.  _ No.  _ No _ ! Not now. Not again. _

_As long as Tared holds, you can too._

_If you sensed fear coming from him, it would demoralize you._

Would sensing  _ her  _ fear hurt him?

_No. He’s a real Jedi. He’s strong._

_Maybe that’s true, but I don’t want to make this any harder for him than it already is. That’s the least I can do._

Harissa focused on steady breathing, on trying to slow her heart, trying to find a quiet place somewhere deep inside—

The Inquisitor stepped away and glanced down at his bloodied fist.

“There. I think that ’s good enough.” He held out his hand, and a clone gave him the DC he was requesting.

He slammed the butt into Tared’s head, and the Jedi seemed to deflate, his blood just a shade darker than the carpet’s own red—

Harissa felt the Ortolan’s dismay at the stains now being pressed into the carpet—

Felt her own horror.

Walking to face interrogation this morning hadn’t felt  _ as  _ terrifying as the day before, because she hadn’t been  _ alone. _

_ Now I am. _

_ There is no fear, there is only— _

“It looks like the cuts on his back are healing up.” He turned to the alien standing in the doorway.

Harissa wasn’t sure of the species, a biped, thin and willowy, and with a very unhappy, afraid look on its face.

“You. Whoever you are. I have need of your services again. You did a fine job with him last time. Well,  _ go  _ on. Have at it.”

The man sent a worried look to his employer, which the Ortolan met with panicked nodding.

Harissa tried to find a way to  _ accept  _ this level of terror and helplessness, but found herself drowning.

She knelt there, afraid to speak up and make it  _ worse— _

The glowing yellow of the whip cut into the unconscious Jedi’s back, a never-ending rhythm.

“Now, obviously he can’t feel that right now, and that’s a shame,” the Inquisitor offered, half-sitting on the edge of the table, one foot dangling, and selecting a small fruit from one of the trays. He popped the morsel in his mouth and spoke around it. “He’ll feel it later. I just wanted to have another talk with you, Miss Nol, without having him meddle with your mind.”

_ You could have left him in the cell! _

Another blow fell.

Harissa watched, unable to tear her eyes away.

“Don ’t look at him. Look at  _ me. _ ”

Harissa struggled to obey.

“Listen.” The Inquisitor leaned forward, his expression kind. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for when you set out from the Temple. You just wanted to help people. Well, being a Jedi in this new age  _ hurts  _ people. People like Tared. People like you. The Jedi participated in a war that hurt all kinds of people. Innocent people. I think you knew some of those people. I think you know something about doing things that feel wrong in order to make the galaxy better.  _ Safer,  _ for the following generations. I know you’ve been existing in a bit of a micro hell for the past few months, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Holy  _ Sith,  _ it actually  _ felt  _ in the Force like he  _ meant  _ that. Harissa could sense no lie.

_ My defensive skills really are destroyed, aren’t they. _

“The Empire acted decisively, and in one night, the war was over. There is  _ peace.  _ Isn ’t that what you were fighting for? A better future?”

“One where you hunt down innocent people and  _ beat  _ them?”  
“Your master would re-start the war. The Separatists have been pacified. I hate to say it, but the only threat to the innocent is now the few remaining Jedi, who won’t be willing to just let peace continue. You said you wanted the war to be over. It  _ is  _ now. You said you didn’t want to be soldiers. You  _ aren’t _ now. You said you wanted to be peacekeepers. You still  _ can  _ be.”

“What are you  _ talking about _ ?” Harissa growled.

He nodded, glanced back at the platter he’d raided with approval. “That’s really good. Here.” He snagged another round fruit. Crouching in front of her, he held it out. “Open.”

Harissa grit her teeth.

“I admire that ferocity. But it has no purpose at the moment. How about this. You open your mouth, and I’ll tell tall-and-whip-happy here to let your master sleep in peace.”

Harissa arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“On my honor as a peacekeeper.”

Harissa snorted.  _ Right. _

But... her mouth fell open.

She blinked.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” the Inquisitor smiled. “You. Leave the other Jedi alone. Go stand in the corner and do... whatever it is you do when I’m not here. Unless it’s annoying. In which case, just stand there.”

He watched Harissa’s face. “Jedi believe in adapting to best serve the people they protect. I hate to point it out— the Jedi Order is gone. Now, do you believe that to have been the right decision? No one  _ expects  _ you to. You’re entitled to that resentment. But, you have a fundamental need to protect people. I can see it in your eyes. It’s what makes your heart beat. It’s what sent you out with master after master, even though none of them survived.”

_Don’t listen to him. Think about something else. Sing a song in your head. Something, anything._

But his voice cut through it all.

“You can die here, and never help another person ever again. Or you can go out there and have the chance to shepherd people in a way you never could during a war.”  
“All I have to do is betray everything I  _ am _ ,” Harissa snarled.

He stared at her in surprise. “No. All you have to do is  _ not  _ betray who you are. You want to help people. The Empire is the best way to do that. To go against it is to restart a war you never believed in.”  
“You’ll kill Master Kenobi.”  
“He, unfortunately, refuses to listen to the people. I don’t know if you know this, but the Senate  _ wanted  _ an Empire, and the Separatists shut down their own army. Master Kenobi has become too much of a soldier, and lost what it means to be Jedi. Didn’t that final message  _ from  _ Kenobi tell you that the old way of life is over? To move on?”

_ How did you know—? _

An answer doled through her head.

_ He knows everything. _

“Isn’t the role of a Jedi to protect the will of the people? The people wanted an Empire. They have it. We stopped the war with as little bloodshed as we could manage. Right or wrong, that’s all in the past. What would Master Di say about living in the past?”

“ _Master_ _Di_ would tell me to give you _nothing_.”

“Aren’t you tired of your masters dying because of you? You have a chance to  _ save  _ this one. You’ve  _ never  _ had that chance before. And who will live to spread the  _ good  _ things your masters taught you, if you die here?”

“Kill enough people and you’ll find the  _ will of the people  _ turned against you.”

“Our only goal is to keep the peace now.”

“And hunt down innocent Padawans.”  
“Am I torturing you?”

“You did  _ yesterday! _ ”

“Hm. Yes, I did. Regrettable. We all make mistakes.”

“No, you’re trying to be both the harsh  _ and  _ sympathetic interrogators at once. Here’s a free tip: works better with two people.”

The corners of the man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “You poor child. You put on this blustering front so people can’t see what’s inside.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You’re afraid. You’re afraid, and everything you’ve been taught isn’t helping you here. You’re going to die here. But you know what? The first thing I was taught, where I come from, is how to  _ never fear again.  _ And once you leave fear behind, you are free to do  _ anything  _ you can dream.”  
Never fear again.

The words chilled Harissa to the bone.

_ You... you are dangerous. _

She wasn’t used to enemies with this kind of intelligence. Tactical droids had never tried to destroy her from the inside of her own head.

_ The longer you engage, the longer he’ll talk. _

So...

She closed her mouth and resolved to stop giving verbal encouragement.

_ Yes,  _ part of her worried,  _ but as long as he _ _ ’s talking, he’s not  _ hurting _ you! _

The holodisc at his belt pinged. The Inquisitor retrieved it, his eyebrow arching. “I have to take this.” His glance at her hesitated, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “You know what? Stay right there.”  
A small figure appeared in his palm.

“Lord Vader. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

_ You. _ Fire stole Harissa’s mind. The universe narrowed to a single blue point, the back of a helmet and cape.

“The Emperor is displeased you directed your report to him. He does not have time to waste on your mutterings.”

From the look the Inquisitor made...

_ Vader wasn’t supposed to know about whatever was in that report. _

Also, another thing:  _ Vader is higher up on the food chain. Much higher. _

“I will be arriving on Toola within the hour.”

The Inquisitor’s eyes widened, and then he glared. “Is that entirely necessary? I have the situation well under cont—”

“You claimed to have found the Padawan seeking a knight regarding Kenobi.”

“It isn’t merely a _ claim.  _ I have both the knight  _ and  _ the Padawan, and I am making progress.”

“So you say. But Kenobi was not your assigned task.”

“I saw an opportunity—”

“Locating the other Jedi lost on Toola is your sole concern,” Vader interrupted, the cadence of his words steady as he disregarded the Inquisitor’s justification. “You will cease your interrogation efforts, and I will take custody of Nol and Kel upon my arrival.”

Harissa saw the rebellion in the Inquisitor’s eyes as he bowed his head. “As you wish, my Lord.”

“Try not to lose them in the time you have left.”

The hologram disappeared before the Inquisitor had a chance to cut the connection.

Harissa wanted to smirk up at him, to give him a bad time, to suggest his plans for promotion might have just been foiled—

But all she could think about was how much  _ worse  _ Vader might be than his apparently-leashed battle nek.

_ We _ _ ’re going to die. _

She offered no resistance as a clone slung Tared over his shoulder and another prodded her to her feet.

Maybe she could overpower them, but there was no way she could carry Tared  _ and  _ fight  _ and  _ run...

The troopers left them in their restraining fields.

Tared stirred, squinted his eyes open. “Harissa?”

“I ’m here—”

He winced as he became aware of his torn back. “Did they hurt you?”

“No.”

The guilt was back.  _ Now  _ because  _ she  _ hadn’t suffered  _ too. _

“Good.”

“No.  _ Not  _ good.” Harissa could hear the edge of terror in her voice. “Somebody named  _ Vader  _ is going to show up in less than an hour, and he told the Inquisitor to leave us alone because  _ he  _ has plans.”

She felt the cold alarm that seized Tared.

It drove her worry into near-panic.

His eyes tracked through the room, his mind working so hard Harissa could almost hear the gears turning.  
The lights along the baseboards flickered, then flickered again.

“I assume you heard,” Tared murmured.

Harissa was about to speak when a voice wafted in from somewhere.

“I heard.”

Harissa’s heart leaped into her throat.

Heat and dust and tiny insects and massive rock formations—

Ryloth sang all through that voice.

“Is he bad? This Vader?”  
“Very,” Tared breathed. “I haven’t heard much, but he’s a Jedi killer.”

Harissa asked her question, even though she knew the answer. “Worse than the Inquisitor?”

“Yes. Worse than the Inquisitors.”

“There’s more than  _ one _ ?” Harissa demanded.

He sent her a look. “That isn’t important now. Talee. Is the ship ready?”

“Yes.”

“The pilot?”

“Also ready. I tried to find room for three, but he will  _ only  _ take two— perhaps we should stay on-planet—”

“ _ Not  _ with Vader. What else is there needing to be done?”

The young Twi’lek sounded worried. “I do not have our escape route clear. I need time.”  
“It’s alright, Talee,” Tared soothed. “It’s alright. We’ll just have to hold out until it’s ready.”

“How is it alright?” the girl snapped back. “I have no way to bribe the pilot to take you both!”

Tared gave a single nod to his head. “Easily taken care of. Take Harissa.”  
“What about you?” Harissa demanded, even as hope pounded through her pulse.

But Talee answered before Tared had a chance to. “I have nothing to say about this. You two must decide between yourselves. I cannot come back for the one who remains behind—”

“I know, Talee. You’ve been planning this a long time. You’ve already risked far more than anyone could reasonably ask you to,” Tared soothed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll come up with another path. You get out, build a life for yourself. Don’t search for me.”

“Surely there’s  _ something  _ she can do,” Harissa urged.

Tared silenced her with a look. “You will take Harissa and go to ground, Talee. There are others who can help me. Remember what I said about Arkanis.”

“I will not forget. I will do as you say.”

Harissa’s fear built like a tidal wave. Soon it would sweep everything away before it, leaving her clinging to slippery rocks with numb fingers.

“It will be more difficult to get away with Vader here than without,” Tared warned, his voice not rushed, but quick. “I will give what distraction I can to cover your escape.”

“We can’t just leave you here!” Harissa protested.

His expression softened. “It’s that or leave  _ you. _ ”

“What about the Padawan I’m pretending to be? Could they—”

“I’m not the Jedi who planned to meet with Master Kenobi. As far as I know, both are  _ very  _ far away from here.”

“I do not like to leave you behind,” Talee urged.

Tared ignored Harissa’s muttered curses. “I need you to trust and obey me on this one.”

His quiet tone said he believed without a doubt that the Twi’lek would come through for him.

That he counted on her to follow the plan.

“I must go,” hissed the young Twi’lek. “You’ll be back under surveillance again in five seconds.”

“May the Force be with you,” Tared breathed, and then he sent a nod to Harissa.

She scowled, “ _ But— _ ” and clamped her mouth shut.

_ How can I tell him this plan is  _ not  _ acceptable? _

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

It hadn’t been an hour.

Harissa had felt her sense of dread building by the second, becoming harder to wait, harder to hang here, helpless.

The Force wailed around them, urging haste, signaling danger—

And then something spilled through the Force. Something so putrid it made the Inquisitor’s presence feel safe.

It hadn’t been an hour.

_ We need more time! _

_ We need  _ out _ ! _

Tared drew in an audible breath through his nose, gaze flicking to meet Harissa’s.

“Is that him?” she asked, in spite of the pointless nature of the question.

He gave her a nod.

Troopers came again.

This time, they weren’t taken to the dining hall.

Harissa sensed the purpose of the room just as she passed the threshold. Her feet balked, trying to dig in against the stone, refuse to take another step—

It was an automatic, unreasoning,  _ unavoidable _ response.

Harissa expected to find shelves lining the walls holding torture devices that had been used for decades, steeping this chamber in pain and fear—

But she found four empty walls and an equally clear ceiling.

In the center of the floor stood an upright table of some kind.

Far too new to have caused the aura in the Force—

And according to the dust on the floor—

_ Brought in just for us. _

In the far corner—

Harissa tore her eyes away from the table and took in the massive figure in black armor, a cape of the same color swirling around him as he turned to face them.

She stared up at him in horror.

She’d been able to look Mace Windu in the eye.  _ Most  _ people she encountered weren’t as tall as herself.

But this creature towered over her.

The sheer magnitude of the hate that rotted within this creature proved to Harissa beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was no droid.

Something living lay beneath that twisted mask.

From the angle of the helmet, Harissa couldn’t determine whether he was scrutinizing herself or Tared.

She grit her teeth and hoped she didn’t look as terrified as she felt.

“So.”

Harissa flinched as the dark one spoke. His voice was loud, deep—

Distorted, by the helmet.

“This is the one who has proven your methods deficient.”

Harissa refused to look over her shoulder, stunned she hadn’t sensed the Inquisitor’s arrival.

Then again, against the weight of the presence before her...

It wasn’t that surprising.

Harissa summoned every ounce of self-control she ever hoped to possess in order to appear calm—

And  _ felt  _ to her deepest soul that Vader would see right through it if he but shifted his gaze to  _ her  _ instead of Tared.

She heard the Inquisitor’s impatient scuff of a boot against stone. “It was only a matter of time before I—”

“I am not interested in your excuses, Inquisitor,” Vader cut him off with a calm disinterest Harissa recognized from less than an hour earlier. “Troopers. Leave us.”

A shove against her back sent Harissa stumbling away from the door and Tared, bereft of agility, collapsed to the floor as the door shut.

An effortless use of the Force lifted Tared from the floor and shoved him against the table. With equally negligent gestures, Vader deactivated the Jedi’s stun cuffs, removed them, and closed the table’s restraints over Tared’s wrists and ankles.

Harissa waited for instruments or droids to be produced, but none came.

Instead, Vader stood in front of Tared, apparently looking him in the eye.

Tared stared back, steadfast but clearly uncomfortable.

A crack appeared in his calm, then horror flooded his eyes. His body jerked and he clenched his teeth. He squeezed his eyes shut, as though trying to block out images of unspeakable nightmares.

It was only a moment before he gave up. His eyelids flew open again, and the expression revealed was enough to give Harissa nightmares. He gasped for air as a groan tore through his body.

Then another.

And another.

“You cannot break a Jedi through pain, Inquisitor,” Vader said, almost quiet through Tared’s increasing distress. “They are too in balance to be provoked to anger by it. Only a Jedi who has  _ already _ given up their hold on balance can be provoked with pain.”

Harissa heard the Inquisitor, still standing behind her, shift his weight. “Certainly, my Lord.”  
“You will never break a Jedi, Inquisitor,” Vader murmured, not a muscle in him moving even as Tared ’s ragged breaths grew louder, “you will never make one talk. You do not understand them, therefore you will continue to fail to compel them.”

Harissa wanted to speak up. To insult the creature in black and goad him into giving Tared a break, locking his focus onto Harissa herself.

She could see Ima-Gun doing it for her, even Keeli—

It was the  _ right  _ thing, the selfless thing, the brave thing—

She couldn’t gather the courage to open her mouth.

She stood there, shivering, desperately hoping Vader would  _ never  _ notice her, would  _ only  _ see Tared—

That knowledge filled her with shame.

“Have  _ you _ ?” The Inquisitor sounded irritable. “Made a Jedi spill its guts.”

The helmeted head turned so very slowly...

Harissa held even more still—

She  _ knew  _ the dark lord was probably looking over her shoulder at the one who had challenged him, but with the eye plates aimed in her direction, she couldn ’t tell for  _ sure— _

_If I look him in the eye, it will only become worse—_

So she lowered her gaze to his boots.

_ Please pass me by. Please. _

“Your survival instincts appear to be impaired, Inquisitor.”

Harissa could sense the welling of fear that surged through the man behind her. She would have liked to have appreciated it.

Instead, it terrified her  _ more. _

She doubted the Inquisitor was going to interrupt his master again.

_ We’re alone. _

She didn’t dare think of Talee.

She didn’t know what sorts of sorcery this monster might be capable of, and what she  _ did  _ sense left her reeling.

She  _ knew  _ his power in the Force was both tremendous and veiled.

As if he didn’t show his full strength to any, letting them see just enough to drive them mad with fear.

As if he adjusted his techniques to seem just a bit above whoever he was fighting.

_ If I dueled him, he’d let me think I might have a chance to win. _

Right up until the point where he lost interest.

Harissa’s knees could barely hold her weight.

Their trembling made her feel like a failure, as if she had already betrayed Ima-Gun and the 337th.

Tared began to flail against his restraints, silent and agonized.

Harissa reached out to him in the Force, desperate to know  _ what  _ was happening to him.

She found the dark one flooding his mind with  _ something— _

She caught a whisper of it.

The screams of infants. The cries of clone troopers.

Blood-soaked voices pleading for mercy.

Trapped in a hell that Harissa was terrified was no illusion, but  _ memories,  _ Tared fought a losing war for his own mind.

The fear only sank its claws deeper into Harissa.

Someone who could take control of the mind of a Jedi?

Ima-Gun’s voice murmured in her brain about black squares.

_ That’s not what he meant,  _ she told herself even as she tried to take a step back out of her own fright—

For a long moment she watched Tared thrash, felt his mind-numbing agony in the Force...

And she realized Vader  _ hadn’t _ taken control of Tared’s mind.

Just what was being put  _ into  _ it.

And Tared was  _ not  _ screaming,  _ not  _ asking for quarter, and  _ definitely  _ not surrendering.

“To break a Jedi or turn them— two sides of the same coin— you must knock them off balance. This Jedi has spent his life successfully fighting against selfishness. Fear and despair as a unit alone have the power to break down the walls of self-restraint drilled in from infancy.”

Fear?

_They’re going to break me. I’m going to betray Master Di._

Grief surged through Harissa’s heart.

_ No. No, I’m  _ not  _ giving in. _

She focused on Tared.

Suffering so much, but doggedly holding his ground, waiting out the storm.

Not giving an inch of ground.

“A Jedi isn’t afraid to die,” the Inquisitor protested. “And they seem unmoved by pain. What would cause enough fear to lead to unbalance?”

Did the vile one smile?

Harissa couldn’t tell.

“Not fear for self,” was his answer; a deep, dark velvet.

Vader released Tared’s mind just enough for him to be able to see and hear again, simultaneously raising his hand and manipulating the Force through tiny finger movements.

Internal organs twisted, ribs cracked, invisible bands closed around Tared’s heart and lungs.

At first, the man fought to retain consciousness; then he let his head roll back and tried to let go.

But Vader wouldn’t let him slip into the realm of unconsciousness.

“Can you feel it, Kel?” Vader soothed, “The dark side has fully taken control of the galaxy. There is nothing you can do to reverse it, and you are sinking under the weight. It weakens you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” was the panted response.

It shocked Harissa, how frail the voice sounded.

How... beaten.

“There is hope,” Tared insisted. “There is always hope.”

Harissa could see him clinging to it, even as he shivered uncontrollably in pain and horror.

“You’ll end up killing him if you push this too far,” the Inquisitor informed his superior.

Vader didn’t even give him a glance.

_Why is he still pushing? Shouldn’t he have taken the hint?_

Vader twitched a finger, and said calmly through Tared’s gasp, “You are referring to Anakin Skywalker, your Chosen One.”

Harissa felt her heart leap into her throat. How would  _ he  _ know about  _ that— _

“You need not,” Vader continued. “He will not be helping you, or anyone else.”

Tared looked up into the expressionless black eye plates. “You... killed Skywalker? At the Temple? You killed him with the others?”

“You could say that.”

Harissa had thought she had seen Tared’s horror.

Now, as it completely took him over, she realized she hadn’t.

She hadn’t even begun to guess the fathomless depths of that were available.

“Those _images—_ _memories—_ not mine. The way they felt _— you_ are Skywalker!” Tared wailed.

Harissa jumped.

No.

That wasn’t—

The Inquisitor laughed. “I’m impressed. You’ve driven him to insanity.”

He was ignored by all present.

“Skywalker is dead.” An undercurrent of threat lurked beneath the words.

All hope had fled from Tared, driven away by a bitter ice wind. The devastation in his face tore at Harissa’s heart.

He looked and felt in the Force like it was all over.

Nothing was left.

He had nothing left.

“You are Skywalker,” Tared repeated. “Don’t lie. I know you now. I can see—”

“Then perhaps you will tell me where Kenobi is.”

Harissa’s eyes widened.  _ Force. Please, Force, please let this be a mistake— _

_Tared thought the memories made the link— memories that included crying babies—_

Had Anakin Skywalker led the attack on the Temple and slaughtered all of the—

_ Jax _ and  _ Tepa  _ and all of the others—

Horror and fury pounded almost audibly in Harissa’s ears.

_ No. Don’t give in to anger— it’s what he wants! _

“I won’t.” Tared somehow didn’t sound defiant. “Especially not now.”

“Do you think that will thwart me?” Vader dragged two of the fingers of his uplifted right hand towards its palm.

Tared cried out, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth.

“I do not need to gain information from you to use you as bait.”  
A sudden thought struck Harissa.

Wouldn’t it be better to tell him where Master Kenobi was, rather than be party to forcing him into turning himself in? He could undoubtedly sense Vader coming and escape—

Harissa gasped and clutched at her head.

The idea had not originated with her.

But it had  _ felt  _ like it had.

Harissa could sense the bombardment against Tared’s mind.

Bait or not, Vader was still pushing against his mental shields—

And they were buckling, despite Tared’s struggles.

The power before him was so much greater than his own.

His gaze jerked back and forth as he fought to keep control of his will, the effort clearly excruciating.

Something inside him was breaking.

With great effort, he turned his head and looked to Harissa.

Her heart broke.

He might not give in. He might resist.

But he would not be the same.

Harissa knew mind compulsion could be accomplished on a strong mind, information  _ could  _ be torn from the depths, no matter how well-shielded—

But only at great risk of destroying that mind.

Would Vader push it that far? If only to try to drive Master Kenobi out of hiding?

_ What if he does it to Tared to prove he’s not bluffing _ ,  _ then threatens to do it to me if Master Kenobi doesn’t turn himself in? _

_ Would Master Kenobi—? _

But that was like asking if the light was selfless.

_ Of course he would. _

Tared’s eyes, which had been clear minutes ago, were now bloodshot, glassy, desperate.

Harissa suddenly realized their positions had reversed.

All along, she’d been looking to him for comfort and strength.

Now he was looking to  _ her. _

_ I  _ will  _ carry your weight. _

This was a man in pain, in  _ need— _

She’d walked away from the bartender, not knowing if he had been apprehended when the clones headed for the hidden bunker. She hadn’t tried to find out. She’d simply run.

She’d blown up the home of the second individual to try to help her.

And now, here.

Tared Kel.

A man who had done his best to shield her from the brunt of the cruelty of this place.

So she met his gaze, lifted her chin, and felt her continued trembling. There was nothing she could do about that, about the frantic beat of her heart in her throat, or the sweat beading her brow.

But through it all, she held Tared’s gaze and tried to send him silent encouragement.

The weight of despair in this room was so thick, so choking...

Tared looked sick, decades older, and crushed.

The galaxy was lost. There was nothing left but night.

All they had left was death.

And revenge.

No, no, not revenge—

It was like the dark side was so overpowering in this chamber that it twisted everything within its reach, even without direct attempts to do so.

A fallen Chosen One?

What kind of power would that even  _ be _ ?

_ All we can hope for now is to die well. _

If it was good enough for Ima-Gun Di and the boys of the 337th...

_ It’s good enough for me. _

_ Were they scared too? _

Tared drew in as deep a breath as he could manage— not very— and looked back up into his tormentor’s mask. “I am not a hostage, and Master Kenobi will know it. You cannot force his hand using me; it’s impossible.”  
“Have you forgotten so quickly that impossible nothing is; difficult, many things are?”

Harissa’s heart failed.

_ Did he just—? _

“Don’t quote Yoda to me,” Tared growled. “Did you kill him too?”

Panic exploded through Harissa. “Don’t get angry. He’s trying to make you angry. He can’t get what he wants unless—”

The black mask slowly turned to face her.

Harissa’s voice died in her throat from sheer terror.

He stared straight at her, no doubt about it now.

“Inquisitor. Why haven’t you killed the child yet?”

Harissa raised her chin and grit her teeth.  _ I will not cower before you. If my boys could face down death, knowing it was coming, so can I. _

“Because she might know something,” the Inquisitor explained, as if that should be abundantly clear.

Vader’s tone in response was very off-handed. “She knows nothing of use.”  
_ He knows I know nothing?  _ How  _ does he know? _

“How can you be sure?” growled the needled Inquisitor.

Vader’s attention didn’t shift away from her as he answered his challenger. No, she couldn’t tell from his eyes, but she could  _ feel  _ it. “Your supposed knowledge of the Force is insignificant; your command of it pathetic. I grow weary of you endlessly obstructing my way with your arrogance.”

Again, Harissa sensed the man’s fear.

“If you kill me, our Master wouldn’t approve,” he said, his voice steady, but now tense.

“My Master will hardly give a second’s thought to the death of a petty dark side practitioner who fancies himself a master of the Force.”

_ Will? _

So Vader was planning on killing him?

Harissa felt a shiver run down her spine.

Vader’s head snapped around, then held very still— “There is another Jedi near.”  
“That’s impossible,” the Inquisitor’s surprise betrayed him into exclaiming. “I would sense—”

“A powerful master,” Vader interrupted. “Shielding. You would be of no use in such a contest. Wait for me here.”

Harissa scrambled out of his way as he strode for the door.

The door hissed shut behind him.

“ _ Wait  _ for him?” the Inquisitor exploded. He spun around and stormed out of the room, careful to lock the door behind him, grumbling the whole while. “ _ He’s _ not the one who’s neck is on the line if my security is compromised!”

Harissa sprang for the table, gripping Tared’s hand with her own bound ones. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He grimaced up at her.

A dull clang snagged Harissa’s attention to the far corner of the room. A grating close to the floor fell in, and a small figure scooted into view.

Talee’s nimble fingers soon had Harissa’s binders shorted out, and Tared freed from the table. He held on to it for support, face drained of blood.

Talee raced back to the ventilation shaft. “Harissa. Hurry.”

“But with the master here—” Harissa protested.

Tared cut her off. “Harissa. It’s Talee. She’s almost invisible in the Force unless she’s actively using it. Born that way. Now  _ go. _ ”

“ _ No. _ ” Harissa planted her feet when Talee tugged on her wrist. “Talee, you get out of here. I’m not leaving Master Kel to face Vader alone.”  
“Harissa—” he warned.

She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. “We’ll make our stand together.”

Understanding softened his eyes.

“Padawan,” he murmured, “What was the final directive from Master Kenobi? Run, hide, survive.”

“ _ But _ —”

“It’s the final mission, Harissa.” Tared winced and rested his head against the table. “I am not your master, but the mission is incomplete. Talee, brilliant as she is, will have better chances of surviving with the help of a second body. I am in no condition to be anything but a burden to her. It makes sense, Harissa. The mission comes  _ first.  _ Especially since this is the last one we’re ever going to receive.”

Harissa wanted to curse him, wanted to curse it  _ all— _

Her feet were following as Talee dragged her to the escape route—

Tared’s gaze never flinched as he watched her, a gentle smile on his beaten face.

_ This isn’t right— _

_ I’m  _ sick  _ of being the survivor while good men die— _

The lock in the door clicked.

Harissa’s natural instincts kicked in and she dove into the opening, right on Talee’s heels, hearing Vader’s breathing as he stepped back into the room.

 

* * *

 

Vader walked without haste, and apparently calm.

Tared stepped away from the table, placing himself between the dark lord and the shaft.

It’s not like the Imperial could follow them— he wouldn’t fit— but he could easily stop them, all the same.

_ Run. _

“I see I was mistaken,” Vader announced. “Instead of a highly trained master, a child, who attained by accident what many must struggle for years to accomplish. I suppose you think to stand in my way so they can escape.”

Tared didn’t bother to respond.

He had one idea; just one.

He reached into the Force and broke the lighting system with a surge of concussive power.

As the room plunged into darkness, he flung himself on Vader.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

 

Talee drew in a grating and peered out, then slid out of the opening, dropping down from near the ceiling to the hall floor below.

Harissa followed. Even as she turned, she heard an intake of air from the younger girl.

There, on the floor, lay the Inquisitor, his eyes wide open in shock, fury, and horror, his neck broken.

“He disobeyed once too often,” Talee whispered. “This way.”

Stunned by the child’s unarguable statement, Harissa followed.

A scream echoed along the stone walls from somewhere behind them.

A voice she’d never heard raised in such agony before.

The darkness swirling through the building because of Vader’s presence kept her from being able to sense Tared Kel or his death, but she knew.

“We must hurry!” Talee insisted, racing forward.

Harissa stumbled after her.

_ The mission. _

She thought of her boys, always so focused, so dedicated—

_ The mission comes first. _

They  _ had  _ to get out.

Tears stole their silent way down her cheeks as she followed Talee’s carefully-timed exit strategy.

She wouldn’t forget Tared Kel.

Ever _ . _

 

* * *

 

Harissa wasn’t sure she breathed once until she and the Twi’lek found themselves stowed away in the back of a smuggling ship.

She was even  _ less  _ sure of oxygen as the pilot dodged the Imperial net, drawn tight because of the prisoner escape.

And then they hit hyperspace, and Harissa took in a breath.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

Talee shook her head. “We were going to decide in the air, in case we were overheard or something went wrong.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”  
“No. I have nowhere to go.” Talee said the words without a hint of sadness.

_ Surely she must feel it somewhere.  _ “Neither do I.”

She could almost see a kind Zabrak face insist  _ that’s not true. _

_ She did say if I ever needed help... _

_And I don’t have anywhere else to go._

“New Draxis.”

Talee raised an eyebrow. “Past Ryloth?”

“Yeah.”  
“Do you know people there?”

“I do.”  
“People who won’t turn us in?”  
Harissa thought of Berri Li. “They won’t turn us in.”

Talee sagged against a crate of spice in relief. “Thank all the gods.” She pulled a holodisc out of her pocket and turned it on. The azure light almost eliminated the gray from her skin and made Harissa’s own look slightly purple.

“How far is your pilot willing to go?”

Talee pointed to a small dot. “Belderone.”

“Good. In theory, we could go any direction from there, so if someone figures out that’s where we went, at least it’s not a giveaway.”  
“We’ll need to take the Triellus Trade Route, not the Perlemian, that way we never leave the the Outer Rim.”

Harissa’s eyes widened. “Been studying star charts?”

“I loved maps before— _ before _ . And I’ve been planning escape for a long time. Things changed when the Empire came.” Talee shrugged. “It’s always good to know where you can run and where you can’t.”

_ My boys would have said,“Always have an exit strategy.” Basically the same thing. _

“The switch from Triellus to the Corellian Run is going to be the trickiest bit,” Talee pointed again. “It’s not safe to drop out at Arkanis, so we’ll have to make the adjustment somewhere else.”

Harissa struggled to make her eyes focus, but the adrenaline was wearing away and the little blue markers blurred together. “How long until we reach Belderone?”

“A while. Why?”

“I have to sleep.”

Talee nodded. “Okay. You have time.” She adjusted the way she crouched, sitting down and stretching her legs out. “Here.” She patted her thigh. “Pillow.”

“That’s alright— don’t worry about it—”

Talee sent her a glower.

Stunned by the force of it, Harissa curled up on the floor and rested her head against the little one’s lap.

Thin fingers traced over Harissa’s hair in a monotonous, soothing pattern as Talee continued to study routes, enlarging the area of space right around where Triellus and Corellian Run crossed paths.

Harissa closed her eyes, and for a moment, the only thing she could feel was relief.

She was alive, currently safe, on her way back to New Draxis, and she’d  _ found  _ Talee.

Granted, she hadn’t  _ rescued  _ the child.

_ She rescued  _ me.. _ . _

But that’s what humility was for.

_ Tared should be here. _

Harissa bit her lip. No.  _ Focus on the future— _

“How are we going to get passage to New Draxis? I had a few credits, but they took them from me when I was captured.”

Talee patted her head. “How good are you at pretending to be a waitress?”

“I... don’t know. That wasn’t part of any of my missions.”

“We’re going to travel with a luxury liner.”  
“They  _ have  _ those in the Outer Rim?”

“It’s not going to be anything like the center of the galaxy,  _ no.  _ But what is seen as rich out  _ here. _ ”

“How are we going to sneak on board?”  
“We won’t. I sliced through the security systems back on Toola. You heard me do it once. I traded work for the pilot for passage. Work I’ve only half done so far.”  
_ So that’s why we escaped. _

Their ride out had possessed serious incentive

“I will slice into the systems, so it looks like we’re last-minute transfers. Waitresses. Then we just need to do our jobs, wear the uniforms the liner provides, and slip away once we reach our stop.”

“And from there?”

Harissa felt Talee’s shrug. “We’ll figure something out.”

 

* * *

 

Berri Li crouched in the center of her field, fingers sunk two joints deep in the earth.

Almost. The ground was almost dry enough for the harvest.

_ Four, five days. At most. _

She gave herself a nod.

As she stood, she caught sight of two figures stumbling towards the house.

_ Who—? _

The farmer worked her way between the plants, careful not to crush more than absolutely necessary as she moved to intercept the visitors.

And then she was close enough to determine the identity of one of them.

“ _ Harissa _ ? Harissa Nol?”

 

* * *

 

Harissa hadn’t expected this to be so difficult.

The way the air smelled after a rain. The way the grasses tugged at her boots.

The empty plain where the GAR encampment had been.

For a moment she’d almost frozen up, almost hearing the laughter of clones—

She’d been careful to lead Talee through the woods in a way that gave the tree fort a wide berth.

She did  _ not  _ need to face  _ that  _ right now.

Still, when she saw Berri’s face and heard her voice, Harissa’s throat closed up.

The door of the house hissed, and a young voice shrieked in delight, “ _ Commander _ !”

Harissa set her face into a clear mask.

The boy who came racing for her was  _ tall _ , who  _ was  _ this kid—?

_ Sweet Force, that’s _ Wek _ ! _

He nearly crashed into her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “Where is Skid and Mimic and everybody?”  
Harissa’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t seem to get words out.

And then Berri was there, looking at her with concerned, sympathetic eyes—

_ Does she know? _

Harissa’s face crumpled, she turned away, some alarm signal in her mind suggesting she retreat back into the forest—

Gentle arms encircled her, and she gave in to them, her knees buckling and sobs wracking her form.

“Wek, why don’t you take our guest to the house, and see that she’s comfortable?”

“Sure.”

But before he left, he tucked a buff-colored kerchief into Harissa’s numb fingers, saying, “It’s clean.”

And then he grabbed Talee’s hand and towed her to the house.

 

* * *

 

It felt like an eternity before Harissa could control her breathing enough to speak.

She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, tried to pull herself together.

She wanted to say that they wouldn’t stay long— that she would try to pay for her keep with work— that if Berri didn’t want her here, they would find some other place to hide—

But what came out of her mouth was a broken, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Berri pulled her to the ground so they could sit across from one another. “I’m glad you believed me when I said I was willing to help.”

“They’re all dead,” Harissa choked. “ _ All  _ of them. The Three-Thirty-Seventh, Master Di,  _ all  _ of the Jedi, Yedra,  _ Tared—  _ even the guy who took me in, I don’t even know his  _ name _ !”

Berri placed a calloused hand on her knee. “You’re welcome here, for as long as you need to stay.”

“I don’t— I don’t want to be a burden—” Harissa hung her head in shame. “I should have figured out how to live, how to find work—”

“Does the Empire know you’re alive?”

“Yes.”

“Then it seems to me that laying low for a while isn’t a bad idea. Especially in a safe place, so you can form a plan for how to proceed. Learn the new lay of the land out there.”

Harissa shook her head. “They say we’re  _ monsters.  _ It’s all over the news— they  _ hate  _ us, they think we did  _ terrible  _ things!”

“You’re safe here.”

“All we wanted to do was  _ protect  _ them, and now they turn us in for money— and those who do are lifted up as patriots—” Harissa drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll pull myself together. I promise.”  
Berri’s forehead furrowed. “Maybe you don’t need to, quite yet. Have you been on the run since... since?”

“Yes.”  
“The longer you run, the harder it will take you down when it finally catches you.”

Harissa tried to meet her gaze but couldn’t. “What are you suggesting?”  
“That you walk for a while. Figure things out. Decide what you can come to peace with and what you can’t. Then come inside and eat dinner with us.”

“I—”

“Your friend will be fine.” Berri stood and shooed her towards the woods.

Harissa melted back into the tree cover, stunned by the Zabrak’s directives.

_ I don’t think that’s what my minder would have said... _

Then again...

She hadn’t met any trained minders on New Draxis. These people only had the wisdom they had developed and found through generations of hard work and oppression.

_ Maybe if you never have time to recover from one attack before the next begins, you don’t have time to let things build. You have to release the pressure when it comes or else. _

Or maybe that was just the fevered mumblings of her mind fighting to  _ not  _ address what was killing her.

Harissa looked up and discovered she stood right where the prefab wall  _ should  _ have been.

There  _ should  _ be men in gleaming white lounging around, a happy glow surrounding them in the Force—

She should hear her master’s voice. The gentle tones that felt like an encouraging embrace.

_I’m never going to have any of that ever again._

_ Ryloth. It all began to go bad when we  _ left  _ here to go to Ryloth! _

It was an inaccurate thought, and she knew it.  _ If we had stayed here... would Keeli have received the orders everyone else did, around the galaxy? _

He wouldn’t have  _ killed  _ Ima-Gun, of  _ course  _ not—

He’d adored him.

Unwanted, unbidden, without mercy a memory intruded.

How desperately the men of the 216th had loved Pleft Yedra.

They’d killed him anyway.

The thought of Threetu aiming a blaster for her heart  _ angered  _ her.  _ He wouldn’t. They wouldn’t. _

And none of it  _ mattered _ since they were all  _ dead _ .

_ And I desperately wished I was with them, yet ever since I’ve been fighting to survive. Why the Kessel have I been so afraid, so desperate, when for months all I could think about was how badly I wished I’d  _ been  _ there? Not to  _ save  _ them but to fall  _ with  _ them? _

“Master,” she whispered, dropping to her knees in the grass. “I—  _ need  _ you. I’m not ready— I thought it was bad out there  _ before.  _ Now it’s... impossible.”

Silence answered her.

Another memory fell, creating another crater like a proton bomb.

Ima-Gun, asking her to determine what had driven her to anger in the space battle so long ago now. To search her soul for the answer.

_ I never did that. _

She’d had too many things happening at the time— it hadn’t seemed very important— had been lost in the midst of all the other bits of chaos...

_ If only you would  _ speak  _ to me,  _ her mind wailed into the emptiness.  _ Something, anything—! _

Part of her, deep inside, offered up a thought.  _ You wouldn’t like what he has to say. _

Harissa glared.  _ That’s not true. He would  _ help _ me. _

Again, she was doomed to be challenged.

_ Oh? Wouldn’t he say _ you  _ are the only one who can help you? You say you want to hear his voice, but it’s been four hundred and five days since you last implemented the words he  _ did  _ give you. _

_ My life fell  _ apart  _ four hundred and five days ago. _

But the other voice just wouldn’t shut up.  _ Again. It fell apart again. And it fell apart  _ after  _ that too. You felt  _ alive  _ when you had Master Di not because  _ he  _ was there, but because you were following his advice. And  _ that  _ can never be taken away from you. Ever. His words, that heart that he poured into you,  _ that  _ is yours. Forever. And if you would listen to it... you could live agai— _

_ Shut  _ up _ , shut  _ up,  _ shut  _ up _ ! I am  _ not  _ willing to just  _ forget  _ them! _

The anger churned through her blood again, seething hot.

But now it was the memory of a familiar voice that returned to her.  _ “You’ve found ways to remember Skid and the villages without letting it hold you back.” _

Nearmiss.

Who’d died hours later.

_ You endured that. You felt it and let it hurt. You didn’t run away from it. _

_ Yes. But there is so  _ much  _ now. The sorrow would— if I just let it— the anger  _ protects  _ me, provides a buffer between me and the pain— and the pain would  _ destroy  _ me. _

_Master Di wouldn’t say that. He would say that pain and sorrow were part of living, and that they can never destroy. Only you can destroy you by how you respond to the grief._

Harissa hung her head.  _ I’m so tired. With Master Di, I _ did.  _ I did accept the pain. And then there was too much... and it never stopped. I am not strong. Not like Master Di. Not like Tared. Force, not even like Talee. _

_Is it possible you are stronger than you know?_

_ No. I’m weak, and afraid, and pathetic, and shameful— I  _ killed,  _ I  _ stole,  _ I abandoned a man who tried to  _ help  _ me, I left Tared to  _ die,  _ I— _

_ “Harissa. All Jedi lose. All Jedi fail. What makes their lives powerful is not that they failed less often than others or that they made fewer mistakes. They are powerful because they don’t give up. They keep trying to help.” _

She could  _ hear  _ Ima-Gun’ s words, said so long ago now.

_ Would I have gone with him if I’d known everything that was to come? _

She didn’t know. And maybe... it didn’t matter.

_ “I can promise you, if you come with me, you will make mistakes.” _

Through the raining tears, Harissa grimaced.  _ Yeah. That happened, all right. I’ve been living as if Ima-Gun Di  _ hadn’t _ been my master. _

_Here I am again._

Force, she missed him.

_ The best way to keep his memory alive is to put to use the tools he gave me. _

Harissa eyed her internal stream.

Once she removed the last of the dams...

_ Oh, this is going to  _ hurt...

Gritting her teeth, gathering her resolve, she  _ did  _ it.

She relaxed her mind.

_ Whatever comes... comes. _

For a moment, all was still—

And then it all hit.

Grief. Survivor’s guilt. Fear. So much fear, wrapped around  _ everything. _

Self-doubt. Hopelessness. A sense of complete failure.

Loneliness.

_ Emptiness,  _ as if all the best parts of living had been torn out of her and the wound left untended.

Meaninglessness.

More pain.

More guilt.

The force of the anguish with all its varied colors rocked her to the core. She tried to just breathe.

_ What I feel, I feel. _

She felt completely broken.

Harissa didn’t know how long she knelt there, the moist ground dampening the cloth protecting her knees.

Finally, silence dawned.

A stillness in her soul that she recognized as being kin to that Ima-Gun had possessed.

The thought of her fallen master and battalion hurt.

She let it hurt.

She didn’t demand meaning from it, didn’t demand relief or to justify what had happened.

She stopped trying to assign blame.

Something  _ terrible  _ had happened.

It was.

It hurt.

It had taken many faces over the years, had haunted her from her youngest days, always there.

It lived with her.

_ And I’m not going to run away from you anymore,  _ she told it.  _ You are my monster. The one from Master Di’s painting. _

_ I  _ will  _ find a way to live with you. A way that does not destroy me. _

Harissa had a hard time believing that something beautiful could come from making peace with her monster...

Certainly, nothing as beautiful as that painting...

_ But here we are. _

She looked over to where there had once burned a funeral pyre.

The grass grew taller there. Thicker. A deeper green.

_ There is no death, there is only the Force. _

Someday, she would join them.  _ Her  _ body would feed nature. Her essence would scatter to mingle with those who had gone before.

Until then...

_ I am a Jedi. _

_And I want to help people._

_I have always wanted to help people._

A shadow flitted across the ground before her. Puzzled, Harissa squinted up into the sky to find carrion avians circling above her.

Harissa arched an eyebrow at them, pulling the other into a frown. “I’m alive,” she called up to them.  _ And I’m done walking around as an empty, dead shell. Master Di gave me what I needed to survive. _

_All I need is the courage to implement it and the strength to keep true to who I am._

And apparently...

Both of those things had been lurking inside all along.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

 

On her way back to the Li house, Harissa deviated to find the old tree fort.

The outside looked unpainted, scoured and weathered by the pitiless New Draxis rain.

Harissa tested the ladder, uncertain it would hold—

But the rope was of New Draxan fabrication, made to withstand the planet’s worst.

Wood creaked as she climbed up and set foot inside.

What struck her first was the golden joy that suffused this place in the Force. Echoes of laughter, the lingering sweetness of song.

The fact that death had taken some of those who had contributed to it left no marring here.

Harissa stepped close to the wall she’d painted, placed her fingers against the spirals that Singe had formed by guiding her hand.

Closing her eyes, she simply  _ experienced. _

The sharp, driving pain—

And the beautiful memories of a man who had made the effort to try to protect her mind the way his brothers had fought to protect her body.

_ As long as I live, you will not be forgotten. _

To reject these memories because they now had thorns to pierce her fingers and heart would be to allow all of the good about these men to fade.

_ You deserve better. _

It would be easy to try to lock away remembrances of happier days because of the pain they now inflicted.

_I’m not going to do that anymore._

And...

That went for  _ other  _ people too.

Harissa closed her eyes and allowed very old doors in her mind to open.

Doors she hadn’t opened, even while under Ima-Gun Di’s care.

The feeling of her tiny hand in Jezui’s. The warmth in the Force that meant  _ Clan Mother  _ to Harissa. The way she’d felt safe with the young knight near.

The way Onna had smiled. The gentle crinkles in her face. The quiet praise when one of the younglings in her clan brought her artwork made especially for her. Her tenderness when dressing scraped knees and extracting splinters.

Lela’s eyes, dark with sparkles of light blue flecked throughout, like the galaxy was reflected in their depths. The way she radiated hope and happiness. The joy Harissa had felt at being chosen.

The way Yema had seen something in her, when she could see very little in herself. His patience and intentional focusing of attention on her. The way he restructured his life to include her.

Malli. Footsteps always dogged by an illness, yet her spirit somehow unfettered by the creeping disease that chained her body. So openhearted, so welcoming. So comforting, when Yema passed into the Force, despite her own heartbreak.

They stood beside Ima-Gun in her heart, and an image of Tared was forming to join them.

Not her master...

But someone who had taken it upon himself to guard and nurture her anyway, limited though his abilities were at the time.

_ I have been surrounded by so many beautiful people,  _ she realized.

For so many years she’d been so busy focusing on the curse she thought afflicted her that she’d missed how  _ lucky  _ she’d been at the same time.

_ No. Not luck. _

_ Each one of those people  _ chose  _ to put others before self. _

_Each one chose light._

She thought of Berri Li.

Not a Jedi...

But so full of light anyway.

_ Master Kenobi said to hide. My final official mission. _

_Me being a Jedi puts others in danger, perhaps even more than it would help._

She thought of the bartender and the man who had prepared for disaster.

_ It  _ is  _ more than I can help. _

But only if she  _ kept  _ the name  _ Jedi. _

_ It’s time to hide the word. _

Protecting the masses would call down vengeance on their heads now. Meddling in any visible way would bring Imperial warships down upon them—

_ The troopers didn’t know for sure I was being harbored by my host. They killed him anyway. _

Harissa’s desire to help people would need to adapt to the new surroundings.

_ Something quieter. Smaller. _

She thought of Talee.

Of the people who had helped in  _ her  _ life...

And how Talee’s access to such people had been cut cruelly short.

_ Right now, for me to be a Jedi is for me to take care of Talee, and to let her take care of me. _

_After that? Maybe I can find someone else to help. Little acts of kindness._

It might not look as glamorous as mediating peace for a planetary system...

_ But the best parts of my life haven’t come about by grandiose gestures. _

It had always been personal contact. One person to another.

Simple kindness.

_The Empire can’t take that from me._

A soft smile lit her face.

She opened her eyes and appreciated the fact that these inside paintings had been sheltered from the storms.  _ I hope they last for many more years. _

So many places in the galaxy were now swamped in darkness.

But this toy home in a tree was a temple of light.

Harissa approached the Li house, pausing by the well to draw water to try to clean off her hands and face.

She could sense life all around. The trees, the grasses, the creatures in the barn—

Wek’s happy signature in the Force.

With all of the death in the galaxy, Wek Li had survived.

That was a victory that heartened Harissa.

_ Not  _ everything  _ is lost. _

She knocked on the door and was admitted by Neivi. Harissa gave her a smile, amazed by how much taller  _ she’d _ grown too.

Talee sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, inspecting tiny farming implements as Wek explained their purposes. The boy’s head came up, and he beamed. “Commander! Look what Dad made me!”

Harissa moved to crouch beside Talee and accepted a toy Wek held out. Carved from wood with sturdy moving parts, stains and small dents proved how loved the object was.

“Impressive,” Harissa praised. “But I’m not a commander anymore.”

His forehead furrowed. “Did you retire?”  
Talee went very still.

“You could say that,” Harissa offered.

And then she paused.  _ I don’t want to lie to a child, but I also want to keep him safe. _

So maybe she should simplify the truth, instead of throwing it away.

“Truth is, Wek, I got kicked out.”

He stared at her with shocked eyes. “What?  _ Why _ ?”

“The man in charge wanted to be able to do things he thought I would stop him from doing.”

“Like what?”  
Harissa sought out Berri’s face to try to gauge what would be allowable—

But the mother only gave her a nod.

“He wanted to tell people to do things they didn’t want to do, and then make them do it.”

Wek frowned. “I don’t always want to do my chores.”  
Harissa’s mind blanked. How did one explain freedom to a child?

“When we are children, we are learning what the world is,” Berri spoke up. “Once you’ve learned how to take care of yourself and protect yourself, then you find your own way in it. Until then, you have guardians who teach you and protect you.”

Harissa nodded. “And once you’re a grown-up, you choose who you want to take orders from. If you don’t want to take orders from your boss, you find a different job. If you don’t want to follow a planet’s rules, you go to a different planet. What the man in charge of the army wanted was to make it so you have nowhere to go. No options. You  _ have  _ to do what  _ he  _ says, and even though you’re a grown-up, you have no choice.”

“Grown-ups  _ deserve  _ choices.”

“Exactly.” Harissa handed the toy back to him. “And so do kids.  _ You  _ deserve a choice, Wek. You get to choose what kind of grown-up you’re going to be, and how soon you get there.”

Wek frowned in thought. “I thought the General was nice.”

“That’s right, but he wasn’t in charge of everything. Only the soldiers here on your planet.”

“Who’s in charge of all of them?”  
Harissa looked to Berri again, and now the mother shook her head.

So instead of answering, Harissa leaned forward and caught his eye. “Sometimes, a person will say something that sounds right, but something feels wrong. You can’t figure out exactly  _ what,  _ and nobody else seems to notice. You need to trust that feeling. Sometimes it’s the only warning you’re going to get.”

“Wek,” Berri called, “time to set the table.”

And with that, Wek’s pursuit of the man in charge was forgotten.

Harissa pulled herself to her feet. “How can I help?”

“Cups, utensils, plates. Wek can show you were to find them.”

Grateful her hostess had not insisted Harissa sit idle because she was a  _ guest,  _ she followed Wek and lifted beautiful glass plates from a cupboard.

The dishes were familiar from other times Harissa had eaten here, and the texture reminded her of other glass work New Draxis had to offer.

A set of beads in a trunk in a Temple whose walls now dripped blood.

A Temple the man who had slaughtered them now claimed as his  _ own  _ home. The thought of political parties taking place in those sacred halls stung Harissa’s eyes.

_ All that matters is the meal. That’s it. _

She poured great attention into making sure the napkins lay straight and each cup sat the same distance away from its plate.

“ _ What  _ is this?”

Harissa looked up to find Teza standing in the open doorway, a shocked expression on her face.

“Teza,” Berri called in from the other room. “You remember Harissa?”

“What is she doing here?” the daughter demanded, not moving a centimeter.

Harissa winced.  _ Why do you dislike me so much? _

Talee moved to stand beside the older Jedi, her small face a carefully blank mask.

Berri returned to the main living area, her expression determined. “They needed a place to stay,” she said, voice quiet.

“And she decided to put  _ our  _ family in danger? What if she was  _ followed _ ?”

“She’s been trained by both the Jedi and the clones. Give her a little credit,” Berri chided.

A venomous scowl crossed Teza’s face. “No. Jedi are supposed to be  _ selfless _ , but her being here threatens  _ our  _ lives, and I can’t think of anything  _ more  _ selfish.”

Harissa felt her throat go dry. “I—”

But before she could offer up an apology, Teza tore through the room and disappeared deeper into the house.

Alarmed, Harissa looked to Berri. “I’m sorry.”

“No,  _ I’m _ sorry. Teza is working through some things right now.”

“I think she might be right, though,” Harissa admitted. “Hiding us isn’t safe.”

Wek glowered. “Teza’s just mean. She doesn’t want anybody to have friends.”

“Wek.” Berri handed him a pitcher. “Please go draw water.”

For an extended moment Wek opened his mouth to protest—

Then his eyes shifted to the guests—

His teeth snapped shut and he complied.

The instant he was out the door, Harissa spoke again. “I don’t want to cause trouble  _ or  _ danger. Maybe we should go.”  
“Not this evening. If in the morning you want to leave, you may do so, but I will not have you setting out into the night.”

Harissa gave her an uncomfortable nod.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was a strange mixture of enjoyment and awkward pain. Teza scowled and remained silent, but the rest of the family chatted in a way that had even Talee relaxing.

If Harissa closed her eyes, she could imagine certain clones here too.

And she certainly longed for the days when her master was a comlink call away.

Dessert just about over, Harissa watched Teza storm out of the house.

“Excuse me,” the Padawan murmured, and followed.

She found the older girl sitting on the doorstep, staring out at the shadowed yard.

“May I sit here?”

Teza didn’t look up at her, merely grumbling, “Haven’t been able to get rid of you yet.”

Harissa sat beside her, careful to keep some space between them.

“Why do you dislike me so much? It’s not just the danger I mean now. You didn’t like me back when the Republic still stood.”

“I  _ know  _ what you Jedi are like,” Teza muttered.

Harissa sensed pain. She waited, wondering if elaboration would ensue.

For a long moment it looked like it wouldn’t, but the words had been pent up too long.  
“Your master wasn’t the first Jedi on New Draxis. Those first days after war was declared, we had a different pair. There was a Padawan, older than you. I was staying with relatives, a several-month internship.”

“Glass?”  
“Yes.”  
Harissa nodded. “Did you make the plates?”

The older girl shrugged.

“They’re pretty.” Harissa received a sideways, doubt-laden glance for her effort.

Teza sighed. “He said he loved me. But when your master came to take charge of the campaign, he  _ left.  _ You don’t leave people you love.”

“I— knew a trooper, who fell in love with a New Draxan. He came with us when we went to Ryloth. I don’t think that made his love any less _real_ or legitimate than others’. He was out there fighting to protect other loves, to try to give them a fighting chance. That didn’t make him love Jesp _less,_ it meant he loved many people. His heart was large. He could want to bring happiness to _lots_ of people, not just himself and the one he cared about personally. Sometimes it’s possible to love _and_ leave.”

“Listen to you,” Teza sneered. “So self-righteous.”

“Is it self-righteous if I  _ believe  _ it?”

Teza snorted in derision.

To be perfectly honest, it  _ rankled.  _ It was a feeling she recognized. It drew up all kinds of memories, chief among them, the way Ima-Gun hadn’t resented Cham’s judgmental slurs.

_ Teza is in pain.  _ Harissa drew in a silent breath and accepted Teza’s anger and hurt.

Accepted that right now, her non-Jedi counterpart couldn’t keep from taking it out on the Padawan.

“I don’t know what was going on in this Padawan’s heart. I only know Ced. I am sorry you were hurt.” Harissa stood to go—

“I don’t need your  _ pity, _ ” Teza growled. “Stand there  _ judging  _ me—”

Harissa couldn’t recall having called  _ her  _ any names or verbally attacking her, but she doubted the other would respond well if she tried to clear her intentions.

So instead, she bowed low, a gesture of formal respect and apology, and retreated into the house.

_ Even if he did love her, and I could convince her of it, what good would it do for her? He’s probably dead. _

Harissa winced at the thought, another broken body smeared across a battlefield. 

Not shot by the enemy...

But killed from behind.

Harissa accepted the shiver that stole down her back.

 

* * *

 

It took Harissa a long time to fall asleep.

The firm couch certainly wasn’t at fault.

Neither was Talee, who had the second couch, just across the room.

The fire burned low, glowing embers in the dark.

_ Does Jesp even know that Ced is gone? _

How much news came out this way?

The next thing Harissa knew, there was a small hand shaking her shoulder. “Commander! Commander!”

Harissa blinked up at the frantic whisperer.

“We need to  _ go. _ ”

The Force felt taut—

Harissa could sense Wek’s fear.

“That thing happened. Right words, wrong feeling.”

Harissa was on her feet in an instant, awakening Talee and catching up the pack the two girls had collected in their travels.

They were out the door within the minute.

Once they’d reached the tree line, Harissa murmured, “Where are we going?”

“Secret spot,” Wek hissed back. “I’ll explain once we get there.”  
_ Please let this be a false alarm.  _ Please—  _ let that be all it is. _

Harissa only balked once she saw the bramble patch Wek was aiming for.

She  _ remembered  _ New Draxan thorns—

And she was no longer wearing New Draxan cloth.

“It’s okay. There’s a tunnel.”

Wek dropped to his knees and crawled forward.

Taking a deep breath, Harissa followed. With significantly less speed.

The clear path through the briers curved and ended in a round area, the floor of which had been cleared of sticks and leaves.

There was room enough for all three of them to sit cross-legged, and only Harissa had to hunch so that her head wouldn’t hit the thorny ceiling.

“Is it safe to talk here?” Harissa asked.

Wek nodded. “Yeah. Teza doesn’t know about this place, and she never comes out this direction. Too many prickles.”  
“What is this about?” Talee’s pale skin glowed in the glimpses of moonlight that filtered through from above.

“I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep because I remembered a whole bunch of things I didn’t get to show you yesterday. So I got up to get some water, and I heard Teza talking in her room. She was talking to one of her friends, and saying they did the right thing. I didn’t think it was a big deal, but she looked up and saw me, and panicked. She cut the connection, and glared at me. Told me to mind my own business and go back to bed. So I asked her what was going on. And she told me that all I had to do was tell the truth, and I’d be fine.”

Chills ran down Harissa’s spine.

Talee’s hand reached out and squeezed her own.

“Something felt weird. And I remembered you said that when people say things that sound right, but something feels weird, you’re supposed to listen, because that might be it. So I woke you guys up and brought you to the secret meeting place, and that’s that.”

“Where does this friend of Teza’s live?” Harissa asked.

“Iptu. We have cousins there. It’s bigger than our village, they even have a comm system that can reach out of New Draxan space!”

Talee’s grip became painful.

_ Don’t speak _ , Harissa begged in her mind. If Teza had turned them in...

_ I don’t want Wek finding out this way. _

“The closest garrison is Ryloth,” Talee worried. “And we have no idea when they left—”

Harissa felt the sensation of being hunted clear to her bones. “They could be in atmosphere already.”

“Who? You guys sound scared.”

“Soldiers, Wek. Soldiers who don’t like us,” Harissa explained.

She could sense his dismay. “Soldiers like Skid and Mimic?”  
“No,” Harissa blurted, perhaps too quickly. “These soldiers take orders from people who hate Jedi. I want you to go wake your mom up. Talee and I are going to stay here.”

A sound cut through the night’s stillness.

A sound that once could have brought tears of joy to her eyes, music that used to lift her heart—

A gunship.

“ _ Run,  _ Wek!”

And Wek ran.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter posted before my return from Star Wars Celebration Orlando. This will be my first Celebration, and I am very excited about it! I hope to return with fabulous stories. My goal is to attend the Star Wars Universities talk that Timothy Zahn is giving about writing... maybe I'll pick up some new skills...

 

 

Harissa tried to make her breathing as silent as she could, her ears straining for  _ anything _ from the Li homestead.

Talee huddled beside her, muscles tense, eyes narrowed.

It surprised Harissa a little to realize that while she herself was trembling, the younger girl was  _ not. _

Seconds seemed hours in the dark as Harissa tried to guess what equipment the clones had brought. Would they scan for heat signatures? Just how seriously were they taking the message Teza’s friend had sent?  
_ Is there  _ any  _ sign we were there? _

They’d used the pillows already on the couch, and turned down the offer of blankets.

_ The dishes were all washed and put away. No extra chairs at the table; those were put away too. _

Toys on the floor meant nothing—

Harissa gripped tight the straps of their pack.  _ We didn’t leave anything behind. _

The only sign that the two fugitives had been present would be the warmth of the couch cushions.

Harissa bit her lip and suddenly wished she’d taken the time to flip them over.

She would just have to hope the clones  _ didn’t _ check that.

Or search the surrounding woods with anything more than their helmet lamps.

Harissa reached out and placed her hand on Talee’s knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

No, it didn’t seem like the Twi’lek was the one in need of comfort, but—

Trying to help her helped Harissa. It gave just a bit more clarity to her mind and added an edge of dogged determination.

“Are they going to hurt them?” Talee whispered.

Harissa swallowed hard. “Only if they think we’re actually here.”  
“But Teza— and the  _ kids— _ ”

_ Lissim is, what? Four now? A bit older? _

Harissa shivered. She didn’t doubt that Neivi, Wek, and Lissim would do whatever they could to keep their friends safe—

_ But can they feign innocence convincingly enough? _

_And how far will Teza push this?_

_ Please, Teza, think of your  _ family. _ Don’t put them in harm’s way. _

Except that she already had.

And after this... Harissa would never,  _ ever  _ brush aside a child.

_What if he’d decided it wasn’t worth waking me up for? We’d have been in that house, the Li family would be caught housing traitors, and—_

Harissa felt sick.

_ I thought we were safe. _

Clearly, they  _ weren’t. _ Not in any place where they could be recognized.

Even by friendlies.

_ Talee and I have to start over all on our own. On a planet neither of us know. _

_I’ll need to find a job, find a home, either get Talee in school or teach her myself—_

“Harissa? How long do we wait?”

“Until Wek comes back, or morning. This is the best hiding place we’re going to find in the middle of the night.”

_We’ll need to adopt new names. Fake backstories. We’ll need to obtain false identification._

That last one... that one might pose a problem.

Planning kept her mind from pointless loops of terror.

_ Preparation is the answer to fear. _

_ With the level of fear I’ve got, I should be astoundingly prepared. For just about everything. _

_The galaxy is a big place, and we’re in the Outer Rim._

At the very edge of it.

_ In a small community, people will always notice someone new. So we need to find a place that’s big enough and varied enough that we won’t be out of the ordinary... but small enough it doesn’t warrant an Imperial presence. Preferably on a planet that has very little use. _

The only system out here with any significant value was Ryloth.

It was a bit late to hold a grudge about the dustball being considered more important than New Draxis. Pointless, now.

_ But we aren’t the  _ farthest _ out. _

The Corellian Run went just a bit farther into nothingness from here.

“Talee,” Harissa whispered, hoping to help the younger girl turn her fear into productivity as well, “what planets lie rimward of here?”

“Wrea, Gaulus, Naos, Lamaredd. A few others— not many.”

“Do you know anything about them?”

“No.”

_ Neither do I, except...  _ “Wrea had a listening post with a handful of clones. They rejoined us when we pulled out of New Draxis. We would have been unable to maintain it with the Separatists cutting its line to Ryloth. Bet that’s how Teza’s friend got the signal out. From here to Wrea, use the comm tower to propel it to Ryloth.”

“So we want to avoid Wrea, or not?”

“I don’t know. Since we really know nothing about the situation on any of them, I guess we’ll see how far we can get with public transportation, since we’ll need the credits we have to set up our new home.”  
Talee’s head came up, a sharp movement. “Home?”  
“We’re going to get out of here, and we’re going to have a  _ life. _ No more running. We’re going to live like other people.”

“Except with emergency bags packed to go, just in case?”  
“With emergency bags packed to go, just in case.”

The tiny body beside Harissa’s fairly vibrated. “We’ll have to find jobs.”  
Harissa nodded. “I could— I’ll figure out what I could do.”

“You did alright waiting tables on that luxury liner.”

“That first night was scary.”  
“Good thing you had me.”

_ I wouldn’t be  _ alive _ if I didn’t have you.  _ “Very good thing.”

“I could probably get work— I’m good with security systems and computers.”

_ Work for who? A local gang? A petty thief ring? _

“I would prefer it if you didn’t have to work. You should be allowed to study for several years yet.”

Cold fingers patted her own. “You forget how long I worked without pay.”

“No. That makes it all the more important to me. Fortunately no Jedi were out this way when the Empire hit, so we shouldn’t run into any Inquisitors.”

“How do you know—?”

“I kept track of Ryloth and New Draxis in the reports. And those are the last stops of any importance on the Corellian Run. The Republic wouldn’t waste troops any farther out. I doubt the Separatists did either. They didn’t when  _ my  _ men were out this way.”  
“I feel like we should be making sure everyone is okay,” Talee worried, and Harissa knew she meant the Li household. “It feels wrong to sit here when they could be in danger.”

“Right now, the way to keep them safe is to make it look like they are exemplary Imperial citizens who’ve never met a Jedi. If we go back there, even to distract the soldiers, that will prove we were in the area, giving credence to Teza’s claims. But if they find no evidence of our ever having been there, they may brush Teza off as an attention-starved teenager acting out.”

“Why would she turn us in when it put her family in danger to do so?”

“Maybe she was scared, and thought that the best way to protect her loved ones was to prove to the Empire that they’re on the same side.” Harissa shook her head. “Or maybe it was just out of spite. She’s hurt and angry.”

“ _ Why _ ? What did  _ we  _ ever do to her?”

“Nothing. But she feels one Jedi in the past wronged her.”  
“So now  _ all  _ Jedi are evil?”

“Apparently.”  
Talee spat a curse in a language Harissa didn’t know.  
They fell into silence, time twisting and stretching.

Exhaustion tried to steal Harissa again—

It didn’t help when Talee maneuvered her so she could lie curled up on the ground.

_ Must stay awake; if they find us, we’ll have to try to fight, to run— _

But she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

And then she was out.

 

* * *

 

“Wake up, Harissa.”  
A familiar voice. A warm voice. A  _ safe  _ voice.

But the Force didn’t feel  _ safe. _

Harissa blinked and stared up into Berri Li’s face. 

“We need to get you out of here.”

“Your family— are they safe?” Harissa asked, trying to stifle her instinctive yawn.

Berri nodded, tension around her eyes and mouth. “For now, yes. I am sorry about Teza.”  
Harissa bowed her head in return and caught up the sack of belongings.

“I brought you food, water, and a few other things.” Berri handed a carrying bag to Talee. “The closest village with public transportation off-planet is Xertu. There are maps in the bag; I know you know how to read them.”

Harissa’s eyes widened. “That’s where Jesp lives.”  
“I believe she will help you get onto one of the transports. She can also tell you current news about the condition of the systems surrounding ours; what I could offer you would be months old. Harissa. You know the land; be careful. Avoid the villages.”

Harissa gave her a grim nod. “Our clothes will take a beating—”

“I found some things that may fit you. They’re in the bag.”

“— _ Thank  _ you. As long as we don’t get caught in a hail storm, we should be alright.”  
“I would offer you a ride, but we dare not disappear from the farm for that long.”  
“Definitely not,” Harissa agreed. “We’ve put you in enough danger as it is. How will we find Jesp?”

“Instructions are in the bag. Travel during the day— stay out of sight. You can’t afford light injuries, so travel while you can see. Hide at night. I hope you can find a place where you do not have to run anymore.”  
_ Not likely, but we’ll try. _

“Thank you, for everything.”

Talee nodded her head in agreement.

Berri gave them sad smiles. “May the Force be with you.”  
And with that, she crawled back out of the hiding place.

“Wait—”

Berri paused.

Harissa took a deep breath and continued, even though her gut suddenly flipped, urging her to refrain. “Maybe someday tell Teza we don’t hold it against her.”

Talee stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

“You are kind, Harissa. Never lose that kindness.”

Silence fell as Berri walked away.

The girls settled in to wait until morning.

 

* * *

 

Harissa wasn’t sure what to expect when she and Talee stood huddled on Jesp’s doorstep.

They’d watched the house for a good rotation, the need for intel an imperative that Harissa wasn’t about to break against.

It looked like the young woman lived alone.

She was also home, at the moment. And the neighbors hadn’t been seen since an hour after sunset— and that was two hours ago.

The door opened in answer to the knock and a face Harissa knew all too well looked up into hers.

For a long moment there was silent confusion, and then...

“Commander Nol?”

Harissa gave her a grim nod. “May we come—”

“Of  _ course. _ ” Jesp pulled them both inside and closed the door behind them, locking it. “You look like you’ve been trekking for days.”

“Try weeks,” Talee murmured, including the whole journey from Toola.

Jesp nodded. “Can I get you anything to eat— drink?”

“No, thank you.” Harissa let the bag she held slip from exhausted fingers. “Right now we really just need sleep.”

Talee spoke up with a grim weariness that almost screamed that at this point, she didn’t care if Jesp was safe or not— the Twi’lek was just too tired to care. “And then a way off world to an Empire-ignored planet close by.”

Harissa’s gaze snapped from her charge to the New Draxan, but there didn’t seem to be any shock. “Of course. Let’s get you settled for the night.”

* * *

 

Harissa awoke far too early the next morning.

It didn’t really surprise her to find Jesp had the same problem.

In the small kitchen the two sat at the table, trying to keep their voices low to prevent waking Talee.

“I think I know how to get you off planet, if you’re willing to go to Gaulus or Naos.”

Harissa rubbed at her forehead. “I know nothing about either.”

“Naos is very cold, lots of ice and snow. Fishing for export is the main source of income. The Naos Sharptooth comes from there.”

The pause indicated there should be some sort of recognition.

“I avoid fish when possible,” Harissa admitted. “Sorry.”

Jesp gave a half-hearted nod. “Maybe it seems like a bigger deal to those of us who live here than to the rest of the galaxy.”

“What is Gaulus like?”

“Mountains. Agriculture and clay are the main exports.”

Harissa arched an eyebrow. “Clay?”

“Medicinal. Yes.”

_ Alright then.  _ “Is it cold too?”

“In the winter, sure. But nothing like Naos.”

_ Gaulus it is. _

“Commander Nol—”

Harissa interrupted her, hoping she didn’t sound too intense, “Just Harissa, please.”

“Harissa,” Jesp corrected herself. “I just— I know the Three-Thirty-Seventh went to Ryloth.”

And here it was. The conversation Harissa had been dreading from the moment Berri Li had spoken this woman’s name.

“For a while we were cut off from the rest of the Corellian Run... and then we weren’t. Which means a Separatist victory. But there wasn’t any source of reliable information coming out of Ryloth. Just rumors that it had been bad.”  
“How much do you want to know?” Harissa asked, hearing the pain in her own voice.

Jesp’s eyes closed for a moment before searching the Padawan’s face. “He’s dead, isn’t he. Ced.”  
“Yes.”

“And what about Kenn? He used to spy on us when he thought we weren’t looking...”

“All of them,” Harissa whispered. “Not one survived. And Master Di fell too. I didn’t because I’d been sent back to Coruscant to recover from an injury.”  
Horror flooded Jesp’s face and for several long seconds she simply stared at the tabletop. “Was it— one battle?”  
“Yes. They went together.”

Jesp nodded. “At least there’s that. Why did the clones turn on their Jedi? Was there something unique about your master and his men?”

Harissa thought of Threetu answering that very question and shook her head.

Jesp’s voice sounded grim when she added, “I can’t imagine, if the rest of the army was like the men I met—”

“ _ Something  _ had to be different,” Harissa protested. “They were told we were traitors, and received orders to take us out. No trial, no court martial— one second they were protecting us, the next  _ killing  _ us, the whole galaxy over— I could  _ feel  _ it—”

Pain sank claws through her heart, making it difficult to breathe.

“I don’t believe it,” Jesp mumbled. “Ced’s brothers wouldn’t just  _ do  _ that. They’d have at least demanded an answer from their Jedi. Maybe  _ some  _ of them, but  _ all  _ of them—? Ced would never have turned on General Di, even  _ if  _ he  _ was  _ accused of being a traitor. It would take far more than a simple claim to convince him to murder him. His brothers were so much  _ like  _ him—”

“The Three-Thirty-Seventh would  _ never  _ have turned on Master Di,” Harissa vowed.

But Jesp watched her with eyes dark in doubt. “How many other Jedi would feel the same, if they weren’t dead now? Do you really think all of the millions of men just instantly  _ believed  _ the individuals they loved and trusted must die? All at  _ once _ ? Did you see any hesitation or confusion or—”

“ _ Stop, _ ” Harissa growled. “You  _ loved  _ Ced. How could you insinuate he would have—”

“There was a  _ loyalty  _ in the clones I met. Not just Ced and Kenn, but  _ every  _ one I spoke to. And they all agreed that the brothers across the galaxy felt the same. That doesn’t just go away in an instant. Bonds formed in war do  _ not  _ just fall away. They should have at  _ least  _ demanded to know  _ why  _ their Jedi turned traitor. Demanded to hear it from the Jedi themselves. The men I met were good judges of character. How could they have been  _ so  _ far wrong about so  _ many  _ of their brothers?”

“ _ Orders. _ ” Harissa felt the ground beneath her feet shivering. “The Three-Thirty-Seventh had issues taking them from people who weren’t present on the battlefield with them. When the order came through, they would have at  _ least  _ grumbled about it. They wouldn’t have blindly obeyed.”

“You were with some when it happened.”

“—Yes. My replacement master.”

“Did they love him?”

Harissa bit her tongue, remembering how they were willing to  _ threaten  _ a  _ superior officer  _ on his behalf.

That sure didn’t look like blind following to  _ her. _

“Were they loyal first to him?”  
_ Definitely. _ “What are you trying to say?”

Jesp’s eyes filled with tears and her voice thickened. “Maybe— maybe it was a mercy for Ced to go out like that. Surrounded by his brothers, at his General’s side, fighting for what they believed in. Maybe that’s better than what the brothers who lived went through.”

“But—”

“Even if he refused to believe the orders and disobeyed, he would have had to live with the knowledge that the rest of his brothers hadn’t made the same choice.”

_ She’s saying what you’ve believed all along— that it’s easier to go with than be left behind. Why are you fighting her? _

“Maybe you’re right,” Harissa whispered. “But it feels  _ wrong  _ to say it’s better this way.”

“Excuse me.” Jesp pushed away from the table and rushed from the room. In the doorway she paused. “I  _ have  _ to. Or it’s— too much.”

Harissa let her leave without protest.  _ Did I make her burden heavier? _

Then again, Jesp  _ had  _ just received confirmation her love had died.

_ Probably needs some time alone. _

A soft footstep alerted Harissa to a new presence.

Talee slipped into the chair beside Harissa’s. “Are we safe?”  
_ I wish that wasn’t the first question you think to ask.  _ “Yes. I just had some very bad news for our hostess.”

The Twi’lek wilted. “Most news is bad these days.”  
“It will get better someday.”

“Do you really believe that?” Talee asked, sounding wistful.

_ Do I? _

Harissa considered it, and then made a sober nod. “I believe we can make a life for ourselves. Find a little house, keep under the radar, maybe have a garden...”  
“Could we have a pet?” Talee asked, visibly brightening.

Harissa shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

“Where are we going?”  
“We have two options: an ice planet, or mountains.”

“I’ve had enough of the cold,” was the younger’s immediate response.

Harissa felt the faint smile that touched her own face. “Agreed. Gaulus it is.”

For a long moment they simply sat there, staring at the pale wood of the table top.

“I knew Master Pleft Yedra, you know,” Talee finally said.

Harissa sent her a quick glance. “I know. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to be his Padawan.”

Talee’s eyes widened in a silent question.

“I lost a lot of people over the years. Master Yoda wanted to pair me with Yedra, and had me do some research on him. I found the files about what happened to you. Turns out Yedra never stopped searching for you, from the moment you went missing.” Harissa shook her head. “He just wouldn’t give up. And then the war hit, and he agreed to fight, but only if he was in a place where he might stumble across clues about your disappearance.”

Talee looked sober. “You became his Padawan because of me?”

“That was a big part of it. I wanted to find you.”

Amusement crept over the Twi’lek’s face. “I found  _ you. _ ”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

“Was he brave when he died?” Talee asked the question as if afraid Harissa would be displeased about it.

“Yedra? He didn’t know it was coming,” Harissa admitted, “but I think it takes a brave man to hold on to hope after it seems so long gone.”

Talee nodded. “Like Tared.”  
Harissa’s heart squeezed tight. “Yes. Like Tared.”  
“And like you.”

Harissa’s eyes widened. “Me?”

A smirk took over, Talee looking like she knew some crazy secret. It fell away as she thought of something else, however. “We should probably ask Jesp what the slavery situation is there. We’re going to need backstories.”

“It happens occasionally out here.”

Harissa looked up to find Jesp in the doorway again, nose just a bit red, and eyes just a little puffy. “Will they have a hard time believing Talee is a free individual?”

Jesp shook her head.

_ Good. Because I would  _ not  _ be alright with pretending she was my slave.  _ “We won’t volunteer information about where we’re from or anything before the move to Gaulus.”

Jesp tapped her fingers against the door frame. “You’ll need to be mindful, but the Empire shouldn’t be looking for you out here. As long as you’re careful, you should be fine. Just don’t go for fame, in case someone recognizes you.”

Talee shrugged. “Never wanted my face plastered everywhere anyway. Shadows are better. More freedom of movement.”

_ Did you decide on that around the same time you figured out you were quite the slicer? _

“The clay mining is on the other side of the planet from where you’ll land. Meb—that’s the pilot— has family in Whisper Ferry, which is why he makes runs there. They’re still looking for seasonal laborers to work in the orchards, so if you decide to start there and then go on to one of the bigger hubs, you can do that.”  
  


* * *  
  


Just before stowing the two fugitives away on her friend’s ship, Jesp surprised Harissa by pulling her into a hug.

“You made my Ced’s life better,” Jesp whispered in her ear. “You made all of their lives better. May the Force be with you.”

Blinking back tears, Harissa gave her a nod. “And with you.”

Jesp pressed a small bag into her hand as she stepped back.

“What is this?” Harissa squinted down at it.

“There’s a lot of people who remember what you did for our planet. Too many for me to make sure it was returned, should you refuse. So take it. Please.”  
Harissa was about to speak when Talee snatched it out of her hands and tucked it away in a bag. “Thank you. Very much,” the Twi’lek murmured. “Come, Harissa. We must go.”

Small fingers wrapped around her own, and, slightly bewildered, Harissa followed the child’s lead.

_ Not entirely sure who’s in charge here. _   
Talee certainly had more experience in living on her own.

So Harissa squeezed her fingers and let her choose their hiding spot in the darkened cargo area.

_ Goodbye,  _ she thought as the transport lifted from the ground a standard hour later.  _ Stay safe. Please. All of you. _

She could hear the soft clink of Talee counting the credits Jesp had sent with them, barely audible against the rumble of the engines.

_ For all of the encouragement we gave the clones about what they might do after the war... _

_Never thought I’d be scrambling for a new career._

 

* * *

 

Sprawling roads with one-story buildings scattered along them, nice open spaces in between each, was  _ not  _ what Harissa had been expecting from Gaulus.

Trees with small white blossoms, the mountain continuing up in the north, down in the south, the quiet marred only by birdsong and insect humming...

Talee’s eyes were just as wide as Harissa’s own.

The last of the genuine passengers were disappearing down the side streets.

“Best way to retain cover is to act like you’re where you’re supposed to be,” Talee asserted, leading Harissa down the ramp.

“It’s broad daylight,” Harissa hissed.

Talee gave a short nod and set off down the road.

Harissa tried to arrange her face into a calm assurance. “Where are we going?”

“There’s only one building taller than the others. Look at how many windows it has. It might be temporary housing, and a good place to ask about work.”

_ You belong here,  _ Harissa told herself.  _ Migrant workers, here for the orchards. You are not fugitives. You have nothing to hide. _

It was difficult to not run for cover and slink along, trying to stay out of sight. That felt  _ far  _ more natural than this.

Strangely enough, Talee didn’t seem to have the same problem. She held her head up, her step firm, her expression neutral.

_ She also looks much older than nine. _

Harissa found herself almost trailing behind her as Talee barged in the door of what, upon closer inspection, certainly  _ was  _ a hotel.

A bored-looking green Togruta glanced up as they entered, his feet firmly planted on the front desk. “Orchards or family?”  
“Orchards.” Talee didn’t miss a beat.

“Head down to the Killiper office. It’s four buildings down and to your left. Door’s painted orange; can’t miss it. They handle all the housing.”

Talee sent him a smile. “Thank you.”

She marched straight back out into the street, and all Harissa could do was follow.

They found the new destination with no trouble, and once again Talee took the lead.

“Do you have room for us on your work crews, or should we move on to the next—”

The human woman arched her finely-penciled eyebrows at them. “We still have room.”  
“Excellent.”

At that point, Talee launched into haggling about work particulars, housing, payment, and length of employment, all at speeds which nearly baffled Harissa’s brain as she tried to keep up.

It ended with smiles and Talee sweeping out the door with a key card in hand.

“So... we’re good?” Harissa asked as Talee strode back down the street.

The Twi’lek sent a fierce grin up in her direction. “Very much so. Two months of work and a roof.”

“I kept waiting for her to ask for documentation,” Harissa admitted in a murmur. “Either that, or confirmation you’re of a legal age to be working.”

Talee shrugged. “It’s the Outer Rim. A good chunk of the migrant workers don’t have documents, and again: it’s the Outer Rim. They aren’t as strict about child labor laws as farther in. Sort of like the anti-slavery laws being lax.”

The blue child pointed at a small white sign attached to a stake driven into the ground. It held the letter  _ Jenth  _ in weather-worn black paint.

“Forty rows back and to the right,” Talee murmured before stepping into the orchard.

Harissa found herself caught by the perfume of the flowers and the cooing of avians hidden by the foliage. The grasses beneath her feet were short, springy, and almost more gray than green.

They left the road far behind, just faintly visible when looking down the columns of trunks. A small clearing opened up on their right...

Harissa’s eyes widened as she saw the tiny cottage. A nice stretch of grass surrounded it, buffering it from the trees, and then overgrown flower beds took over up to the walls of the house.

It looked  _ beautiful. _

Talee stared, just as stunned. “By all the gods,” she swore. “It must be falling apart on the inside.”

Harissa had to agree.  _ I was expecting a run-down shack. _

As they approached it became abundantly clear to Harissa that the stone house had been sitting here for a  _ very  _ long time. Vines and moss caressed the stones, and the few transparisteel windows looked like they’d been salvaged from ships. Scratched, grime-covered—

_ We need to clean them, first thing,  _ Harissa decided.

The door only slid half way when Talee swiped the card’s credentials and keyed it to open.

_ Alright, maybe the door first. _

They stepped into the single-room house. One of the windows lay shattered— that one looked to be real glass— and light filtered in through the ceiling. Apparently, the wooden shingles Harissa had seen from the outside had nothing underneath them to make up for the missing ones.

A ceiling light that wasn’t functioning, a tattered rug on the floor, a small bed with a sagging frame and thin mattress that had a tear in it and seemed to be spilling dried grass stuffing...

Talee headed back outside to check behind the house, while Harissa opened the two doors on the far wall. One led to a closet, a series of hooks sticking out of the wall at eye-level. The other opened into a miniature refresher. Harissa barely had room to turn around inside it. She checked all the water lines, and felt gratitude that at least they were working.

She returned to the main room, a bit encouraged. She was in the process of crouching down to peer up the chimney when a joyful shout reached her ears. “There’s a pond!”

Harissa turned away from the fireplace, which appeared to be the only method for cooking in the house, and sought out Talee, who was in raptures over a tiny lake.

Harissa had anticipated it to be algae-covered, but instead she found it to be sparkling, clear, and—

_ Probably deeper than it looks. _

The sun glinted off the scales of brightly colored fish.

Talee raised delighted eyes to hers. “It’s perfect,” she declared.

Harissa couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “I think we’ll manage. We’re only going to have this job for two months.”  
Talee slowly spun around, hands extended. “ _ Smell.  _ Listen.  _ Look.  _ You can see the sky, see the mountain, there’s no risk of  _ frostbite,  _ we have a  _ home _ —”

Harissa’s heart ached at the word.

_ Home  _ meant the Jedi Temple.

It meant countless people, a gentle rhythm of life.

It meant babies, and children, and ancient masters falling asleep in the sun, the scents of fabulous dinners.

It meant a place of unshaken peace and safety.

She closed her eyes against the homesickness she felt.

If they worked hard, this house would become not  _ terrible,  _ though she wasn’t sure it was worth the effort since they’d be forced to move on and find a new source of income and new housing once their current job was up.

This place might even end up beautiful, if they made it their own.

_ But it will never be  _ home.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! I had a wonderful time, met some amazing fellow fans, and enjoyed the Kessel out of Celebration.
> 
> As for Harissa, we're nearing the end of this particular story. There is this chapter, then an epilogue. After that I'll post some behind the scenes things you might find amusing or interesting.
> 
> I am currently working on the next novel that I will be posting here, and news about it will arrive shortly. It will not feature Harissa, but I hope you will enjoy our new heroine anyway.

 

 

Harissa and Talee ate the lunch Jesp had sent with them, sitting on the grass outside their house.

“So what are these pests we’re supposed to keep off the trees?”

Talee shrugged. “I’m guessing the overseer will explain all of that when he visits tomorrow. What do you want to do until we lose light?”

“Clean,” was Harissa’s prompt reply. “And complete our cover stories.”

“Thought we already did.” Talee took another bite and spoke around it. “Migrants, following the work from planet to planet.”

Harissa pulled her mouthful back so she could speak  _ before  _ chewing. “We need names.”  
Her example seemed to make no impression on the younger girl.

It also only took her a second to answer.

“Suri Haguma. That’s me.”  
“Why? Does that mean something?”

Talee shook her head. “Nothing to trace back to me. I swear.”

“Is it obviously fake because it’s somehow clever or cute?”  
Talee grinned but shook her head again.

“Alright then, Suri. Any ideas for me?”

“Ariss Haguma.”

“Same last name?”

Talee shrugged. “I’d like to be sisters.”

“No one will buy it,” Harissa worried. “Talee—”

“We’ll tell them and anyone close enough to hear yelling that they are specieist. Yell it loud enough, with enough indignant rage, and trust me— they’ll back off. They’ll be begging to back off.”

Harissa arched an eyebrow. “You really think that will work?”

“Sure. And we only do it to those who try to call us on it. The people who just keep on, we don’t beat up.”

Harissa choked a laugh, suddenly remembering Threetu for  _ so  _ many reasons. “Okay.”

They tucked the now-empty food containers back into their bags, collaborating on just  _ how  _ to fill their afternoon.

It didn’t take long.

The newly-minted sisters attacked the house with a mix of grim determination and hopeful enthusiasm.

Talee, of course, brought the hope.

There were moments when Harissa was sure she caught sight of sparkles in Talee’s eyes, and the first time she heard bubbling laughter, it took her so by surprise that she chuckled too.

_ You need to remain vigilant,  _ she decided,  _ but until there’s a reason to run again... it’s time for something new. _

“Suri. Help me with this mattress, please.”

Talee hastened over, scrunching her nose. “Are you sure you want to move it? All the stuffing might fall out, or we might displace a nest of insects. Wouldn’t it be better to sleep on it tonight, and wait to take a closer look until tomorrow?”

Harissa stared at her in horror. “How is that  _ better _ ?”

“It’s easier to sleep in a place where there might  _ not  _ be bugs than in a place you  _ know  _ has bugs.”

Harissa eyed the suspect mattress. “I think I’m sleeping on the floor. Or better yet,  _ outside. _ ”

Talee shrugged. “Suit yourself. But if you want to sleep on the floor, we better clean up the glass first.”

“Agreed.”

_ That,  _ however, proved to be a problem.

“We need some form of sweeping capability,  _ and  _ somewhere to put trash,” Harissa announced after a few minutes of scouring the house for  _ options  _ for those things.

“The pond?”

Harissa stared at her. “Ah— no. Not in the pond.”  
Talee shrugged and headed for the door.

“Do you know  _ why  _ not in the pond?” Harissa asked, trailing after her.

“Because it would be ugly?”

“That’s part of it. The main reason is we don’t want to hurt the fish. We don’t know what that glass is made out of; it could leach something harmful into the water. Also, sharp objects could make the pond unpleasant to swim in.”

“Oh.”

Harissa could practically see the younger girl thinking.

_ There’s still so much she needs to learn _ , Harissa worried.  _ I’m not  _ ready  _ to help someone her age. Not as her only caregiver. I really should put her with a family. _

The thought rang false, however.

_ Berri said that children have  _ guardians  _ until they’ve learned enough to thrive on their own. And I told Wek he picks how fast he grows up. Do I actually believe that? _

Talee might have only lived for nine years, but those nine years included  _ far  _ more looking out for herself than Harissa’s first nine.

_ Trying to raise her the way I would raise a little me isn’t wise. I’m not her master, and I’m certainly not her parent. _

_Maybe I’m her guardian._

A part of her whispered  _ and friend _ in the back of her skull.

_ What happens when she rebels against me? I don’t actually have authority over her, and if I try to just assume it, she’ll resist eventually. I won’t have any way of countering that. _

Unless...

_ Unless I don’t lay down rules. Unless I see this as a partnership, not apprenticeship. I’m not raising her. She raised herself already. I’m simply here  _ with  _ her so that neither of us are alone. She could have headed out on her own, perhaps more capably than I could. _

_You’re not in charge, Harissa, and as long as you don’t try to pretend to be, this might just work._

She had  _ no  _ idea what to do in a few years.

_I have a feeling she’s not going to be as cooperative as I was at that age._

They would just have to deal with that when they got there.

“So,” Harissa spoke up as they reached the road and turned to head in to town. “How do we find a supply store?”  
Talee shrugged. “Ask around?”

And fortunately, Harissa was of the same mind.

 

* * *

 

The door chimed as they entered, and an Ugnaught trotted around from behind a counter that was twice his height. He squealed something, leaving the two girls looking to one another, baffled.

“We’re looking for cleaning supplies,” Harissa offered, returning her gaze to the shopkeeper.

A couple of grunts answered her, and he pointed to a set of shelves. A holosign hovered above them, no text, only a small blue house.

“Thank you.” Harissa headed in that direction, glancing around to figure out the layout of the rest of the store.

Mostly hardware and some dry goods, Reck’s Hardware was a small building with supplies piled up in the corners, about ready to fall off shelves, and hanging from the ceiling.

It took a while to rummage through the only slightly organized mess, and by the end of it, Harissa had a headache.

And when Talee decided to haggle over price, using a combination of hand gestures and credits to communicate, Harissa retreated from the cold building into the warm sunlight.

A few people moved from one place to another, talking and laughing as they went. The town was no village in size, and yet it seemed to behave like one.

_ Curious. _

A place that felt frozen in time. It had grown, yet not lost its original nature.

Talee came spilling out the door, arms full. “That was fun!”

“If you say so,” Harissa returned, disbelief in her voice. “Can I help with that?”

She ended up with a ridiculously heavy tin of flour and a jug of cleanser. “There you go. Now to clean.”

“The flour is going to help us clean?” Harissa arched an eyebrow as they headed back down the cobblestone street once again.

Talee barked a laugh. “No. We’ll use it and water to help spread our rations out until we can explore some more.”

When they left the road at their little white sign, the gentle upward climb burned in Harissa’s calves, reminding her of long tramps across New Draxis.  _ If only you boys could see me now. _

She accepted the quiet ache in her heart.

The house gave way beneath the combined focus of the girls, the dirt banished and the grass bedding hauled outside. Talee unfolded a collapsible mattress, and once Harissa was satisfied with the cleanliness of the area, placed on top of the bed frame.

They continued their efforts until the light gave out, at which point they closed and locked the door, and settled in for the night.

 

* * *

 

Talee could sense her sister’s growing discomfort. It was building with every second, even though it was hidden from her face.

Thankfully, the overseer didn’t notice.

“The reason you don’t usually hire the same people to pick the fruit as protect the flowers is what?” Talee asked.

“Most of the time the workers cain’t  _ stand  _ to stick around once the job is up. We get in new folks with enthusiasm to replace ’em.”  
Talee wondered what it would feel like to  _ leave  _ a task because you  _ wanted  _ to.

She hadn’t had that privilege in a long time. She might have to try it out, just to see what it felt like.

Then again, she really liked the fish in the pond, and wasn’t sure she wanted to leave them behind.

 

* * *

 

“Most of the damage rivvers do is durin’ the day. You’ll hear ’em before you see ’em. Ten rows from the house, in all four directions. That’s your responsibility, nothin’ more. It’ll keep you on your toes.”

Harissa tried to place the Nautolan overseer’s twang, but couldn’t come up with a region. So instead, she focused on the purple bridge of his nose, nodded her head, and hoped he mistook her focus to be looking him in the eye.

“It’s hard work, but that’s why it pays well. When folks come lookin’ for good credits and no effort, they leave disappointed. The boss doesn’t stand for the lazy type. Though, by the looks of what you’ve already done to the place, I’m thinkin’ you’re  _ not  _ the lazy type.”

“How do you want us to kill the rivvers?” Talee asked.

It bothered Harissa that this didn’t seem to bother Talee.

Keeping pests off the blossoms and  _ killing  _ them were two different things for Harissa. She wasn’t pleased with the new revelation, and the indifference of her new sister was—

“Any old way will do, so long as they’re dead. You bring ’em to the office at day’s end, they’ll be counted, and if they fall in the average range, you get paid. Under, and you get paid enough for dinner, that’s it. Over, and you get extra.”

A smug look crossed Talee’s face. “No preferred weapons, then?”

Harissa felt the hollow twinge in her heart that meant her lightsaber was far,  _ far  _ away.

She’d likely never hear the comforting song of its crystal ever again.

She only hoped the poor stone wasn’t being abused, forced to bond with darkness, wasn’t bleeding, turning the blade to a sick crimson—

“Some use blasters,” the overseer drawled. “Others use stun-spears, nets, knives, traps— You’re just not allowed to use poisons on ’em, since it might harm the crop.”

“Understood.” Talee gave him a nod. “Ariss, any questions?”

Harissa shook her head. “No. Thanks.”  
The overseer rummaged in the back of his speeder and threw a stun-spear and net on a long pole to the girls. Harissa caught them reflexively.

The man handed a knife in a sheathe to Talee. “If you’re not afeard of gettin’ your hands dirty, they’ll do you well. They were left behind by the last folks to live in this barn. If you want to keep the pelts for your own use, you’re welcome to— meat, innards, whatever— just bring the skulls in if you don’t have the full carcass left.”

Talee looked even more pleased.

_ How  _ could she look  _ pleased _ ?

“Good huntin’!” the purple-skinned Nautolan called, waving his hand in farewell as he hauled himself back into his speeder and drove off.

Harissa waited until the sound had faded before she turned to Talee. “I don’t like it.”  
“I can feel it,” Talee agreed. “Why? If we don’t have to purchase most of our food, then we can save more credits up in case we ever have to get out of here in a hurry. Maybe we could even make the house prettier. We can sense the rivvers, ten rows isn’t  _ that  _ far from the house, in between each hunt we can do what we like, and if we work hard, we’ll get paid  _ more. _ ”

“Paid for  _ killing. _ ” Harissa ran a hand through her hair. “It’s— it’s sick, Talee.”

Talee frowned. “You’re worried their sentient.”

Harissa opened her mouth to explain that  _ wasn’t _ what she was worried about, but now that Talee  _ mentioned  _ it—

She found her words prevented by a song trilling through the trees.

She recognized the beautiful melody from the day before.

Talee snatched the net from her hand and dashed into the orchard.

“ _ Wait— _ ” Harissa barked, lunging after her.

By the time she caught up, Talee was five trees into their tiny domain, with a creature securely caught in the net. It thrashed against the cords, trying to find a way out.

Harissa’s heart shivered. “It’s  _ terrified, _ ” she growled, crouching down beside it.

“Is it sentient?” Talee asked, businesslike.

Harissa reached out to the tiny brain, trying to find any sign of intelligence—

“I don’t think so,” she admitted, reluctance all through her voice. She gently shushed the rivver, drawing on the Force to calm it, to ease away the fear—

Now still, the mammal looked up at her with wide, dark eyes.

A body the size of Harissa’s two fists put together, a small head with long ears that undoubtedly dragged on the ground when it walked, and a tail almost longer than its body. Short russet fur covered it from head to tiny clawed toes, lengthening to a soft bush along the tail.

“If they eat the flowers, then the fruit won’t form. If there’s no fruit, there’s no harvest, and if there’s no harvest, the people who live here go hungry,” Talee said reasonably. “Besides. His fur could keep us warm in the winter, and his meat would keep  _ us  _ from going hungry. We’re not killing him for  _ fun,  _ but to  _ survive. _ ”

“We’re not that desperate yet,” Harissa murmured.

“We  _ will  _ be, if we don’t do this job and do it well.” Now Talee sounded worried. “It’s honest work, we’re in a good place with decent people, Ariss. Do you know how difficult it can be to find a good job in the Outer Rim? If we make sure to use everything a rivver gives us, then we’re not wasting it.”

Harissa sighed. “Talee, the Je—” _ Not safe. Not even in private. Start again.  _ “Our  _ family,  _ our  _ big  _ family, doesn’t take life unless there is no other option. Not for convenience, and  _ certainly  _ not for money.”

“But our  _ big  _ family didn’t  _ only  _ eat plants.”  
_ True. And many plants are either injured or die from harvesting. _

“Some of them  _ did. _ ”

“Are  _ you  _ one of those?”

“No.”

Talee made a head motion comprising of a small, round shake. “Then...?”  
“Some species can’t survive on plant matter alone,” Harissa offered. “They need specific nutrients found in—”

“We’re not talking about  _ them.  _ We’re talking about us,  _ now,  _ and  _ these  _ animals.”

_ She’s right. You’re stalling. _

Harissa looked up at her in dismay.

She had no idea what to say.

_ Why can’t I just _ admit  _ that? Come on, Harissa. Humility is also a Jedi trait. Try to show some. _

“I don’t know.” The words had been difficult to get out, but once said, she felt just a little relieved. “It’s not something I ever discussed with my ma— my  _ parent. _ ”

_ Get used to using euphemisms now, and you’re less likely to mess up when it’s  _ really  _ important. _

Talee’s jaw wobbled.

Harissa’s eyes widened with sympathy as the smaller girl turned away, hugging herself and trying to stifle tears.

Leaving the content rivver, Harissa moved to stand behind her, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “Suri?”  
“Do you suppose any of the  _ mothers  _ survived?” was the sobbed response.

Harissa closed her eyes, hurting alongside the younger Jedi. “I don’t know,” she returned, voice thick.

Talee shook her head. “It’s not likely.”

A hard sniff, determined blinking, and a scowl only served to make Talee look even  _ more  _ sad instead of the  _ all fine here  _ facade she’d undoubtedly been trying for.

“It’s alright to miss them, Talee. It’s alright to miss  _ all  _ of them.”

“But it makes me  _ angry. _ ”

“It’s easy to use anger to help the pain feel less bad,” Harissa explained, Talee’s shoulder warm beneath her fingers, “But anger makes it hard to see the good things we have right now. It makes us blind to the people who care about us, it can steal our compassion, and it doesn’t help us be the best versions of ourselves.”  
“Then what do you  _ do  _ with it?”

“Some things are sad, Suri. Let it be sad.”

Talee’s breathing grew more harsh. “I don’t give up. I don’t believe in giving up.”

“Those aren’t the only two options.” Harissa squeezed Talee’s shoulder, knowing the pain of this struggle, and wishing she could  _ help. _ “I tried both, and neither one healed the wound. Making the people who made you sad be sad  _ too  _ only increases the sadness in the universe. They wanted to make people sad. Now  _ more  _ are. The way to win against people who want to make you sad is to find small happy things. To focus on them and find more until they become much bigger. If you refuse to be anything less than your best self, and take control of your own life,  _ that  _ is when you win.”

“But it  _ hurts,  _ Ariss. And if I don’t— if I’m not angry, then I think I’m going to die.”

Harissa’s heart crumpled. She moved to kneel in front of Talee, looking up into her face. “I know,” she whispered, feeling the tears in her own eyes.

A whisper of zabrak horns in her memory, hands so massive and so gentle with the babies in his care—

Harissa drew Talee into a tight hug, letting her tears dampen the child’s lekku. “I know.”

Thin arms held her close as the small body shook with silent sobs.

“You’re stronger than you know,” Harissa whispered, her voice difficult to make work. “I believe it. We’ll survive this together. You are not alone.”  


 

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the end! To all of you who've read this far, and for the kudos and comments that have been left, and for my darling subscribers: Thank you.

 

 

_**Twenty-three years later...** _

 

Construction blocked Harissa’s usual path in Port Town.

_ Time to get creative. _

Taking advantage of her familiarity with this area of the city, she ducked into a short-term lodging facility, knowing it had a back door into the small ship landing docks complex.

She was prepared for trouble, just in case.

She  _ wasn’t _ prepared for the astromech that rolled up, whistling mournfully, stopping right in her path and staring up at her.

“I’m sorry, can I help you?”

It rocked back and forth, dome swiveling, sounding urgent.

“I don’t understand binary,” Harissa warned.

The droid rolled away, paused, turned around, and whistled.

_ Bad idea. This is a spaceport, Harissa. Likely a trap of some sort. _

She stilled her soul, and felt a subtle nudge of the Force.

_ Alright, then. We’ll move carefully. _

Harissa let her hand drift near her thigh and the blaster strapped there.  _ Not like this would be the first tangle I’ve had to unsnarl here. _

Too bad her business partner wasn’t here. Backup would have been nice.

She followed the droid at a healthy distance, head cocked, listening, watching all around, paying close attention to the Force—

The droid stopped at a doorway and triggered it open.

The smell reached Harissa first.

The scent of sickness and death.

Her feet balked, not wanting to continue.

The droid’s optical sensor searched the interior, then turned to look up at Harissa. It made a low whimper.

Harissa patted the top of its dome without even thinking about it. “Alright. Give me a sec.” She drew her blaster, reached out with the Force, and swung into the room, clearing the area the same way she’d seen her men do so many times in the distant past.

The dead body of an old man lay on one thin cot, and a young woman lay still on another. She didn’t look to be out of her teen years yet.

Sensing no threat, Harissa holstered her blaster and moved to investigate.

According to the smell and state of his skin, the man had been dead for maybe a day, at most. Not too bad.

And the girl...

Careful not to touch anything, Harissa squinted in the dim light, trying to see.

The astromech lit the area with its dome light.

“Thanks,” Harissa murmured. “How long has she been like this? I’m going to ask you a few yes or no questions. I can understand that much. Did she fall sick today?”  
Negative.

“Yesterday?”

Negative.

“Two days ago?”

A whistle.

Harissa nodded. “Is that her father?”

Something Harissa couldn’t figure out.  _ Some form of family member, then, but not father. _

“Do they have friends, or know anyone here who can help?”

Another negative.

“How far away are the closest people who could help?”  
A very mournful trill.

_ Too far. _

“When did the fever reach the point where she couldn’t focus on what was happening around her? Before her relative’s death?”

Positive.

“I’m fairly certain she has Shaddaa Fever. It’s not life-threatening, as long as she consumes enough fluids.”

A worried whistle.

“She needs someone to take care of her. You need to call a meddroid or contact one of the clinics.”

She received a vehement  _ no. _

Harissa glanced around the room, at the state of the two victims’ clothing, and the tiny collection of belongings scattered on the floor. “Is it a credits thing?”  
A hesitant  _ yes. _

_ But refusing to go to one of the clinics.  _ “And you don’t want her identified by the Empire?” Harissa guessed.

The droid stayed silent for a long time.

“Tell me one thing. If I help her, will she hurt me?”  
An immediate  _ no. _

Harissa felt no warning from the Force, not as if  _ that  _ would necessarily warn her of disaster in time.

Harissa thought of Ima-Gun and Yedra, willing to take her on in spite of her track record. Of Berri and Jesp. Of the nameless New Draxans who had sent them credits to help in their escape.

Of the bartender and host.

_ Is it a risk? Certainly. _

_But it’s my turn._

Harissa opened a holo link with her sister. “Suri. Hey. I’ve got a sick young lady here.”

“Move the link closer.”

Harissa complied.

“Shaddaa Fever,” Talee pronounced. “She needs rest.”

“What should I do to help her?”

Talee read Harissa’s determination, in spite of the fact that she could only see a holo. “Bring her home with you. You’re immune, it’s a trick of your blood, and I had it once as a kid, so I won’t catch it again. Once she’s back here, I can take care of it.”

“We also have a corpse and a droid.”

“By  _ all the gods _ !” Talee screeched. “What did you  _ do _ ?”

Harissa laughed. “Nothing, I  _ swear.  _ I’ll clean up here, then head on home.”

“Be careful when you dispose of the body,” was the pleading response. “You’re always telling me to be careful, and this is  _ not careful _ !”

“ _ I  _ didn’t kill him. See you soon.”

Harissa smiled as she closed the link.

Turning to the droid, Harissa announced, “I could ask your mistress what she wants, but she’s in no condition to give me permission or to say no. So it’s up to you. Do you think I should take the two of you with me?”

The astromech considered...

And then whistled an agreement.

“Alright. We’re going to gather everything up and move out. I’m guessing you paid for lodging ahead of time?”  
Another affirmative.

“Then all we have to do is get out of here.”

So, droid, ill child, and corpse in tow, Harissa headed back to Whisper Ferry.

Talee met her at the door, fondly grumbling about reckless behavior and saving  _ every single life  _ her sister came across.

Harissa could only smile and admit the younger woman was right.

_ Just part of being a Jedi. _

_Save the ones you can, and those you can’t, you resign to the Force._

She met Talee’s exasperated gaze and  _ knew. _

_I’m home._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we take leave of Harissa and Talee for a time. Their story is not over, not by a long shot, and we will see them again. Just not in the next novel.


End file.
